Spero melior - I hope for better things
by Kessie
Summary: Sally just couldn t believe her luck: not only had she gotten herself confused with the women she had been trying to save from the human traffickers, no, she even had managed to get herself captured by a man who was supposed to be dead. A man, who probably hated her guts and even had all the right to do it. Sally & Sherlock friendship - First Sherlock Fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Spero melior - I hope for better things

**Authors:** Kessie

**Characters/Pairings:** Sherlock, Sally, Mycroft. John, Anthea, Lestrade, OCs leading to slight Sherlock/John, slight Sally/Mycroft

**Rating:** just to be sure: M/ NC 17

**Status:** over 30000 words already, still writing, but will be completed soon

**Warnings:** Warnings for mentions of non con and violence. Mention of Child abuse! ( see rating!) And language of course. Its Donovan. Lots of drama, but also some silliness…

**Disclaimer:** Sherlock belongs to the BBC, ACD, Moffat and Gatiss. No copyright infringement intended.

**Summary:** Sally just couldn´t believe her luck: not only had she gotten herself confused with the women she had been trying to safe from the human traffickers, no, she even had managed to get herself captured by a man who was supposed to be dead. A man, who probably hated her guts and even had all the right to do it.

Thanks to Archea for beta reading this part!

**Chapter 1**

Life, thought Sally, could be weird sometimes. Just when you thought that, finally, you had situation and your place and all that figured out, it would come and throw something completely unexpected at you. And it would do so with great glee and fun and take all of the oh so carefully claimed ground from under you. In Sally´s case the newest "something" had been the woman who just had run up to her while she had been jogging near the Thames a few hours ago.

Had she known what she was in for, she would have run and requested backup instantly. Needless to say, she didn't.

It had been her first complete free weekend in ages and Sally had been determined to exercise at least bit before she let herself relax. Damn all these takeaways and pastries recently- but then again, a job at the Yard never left much time for cooking. So she had driven to the Thames and started jogging, cursing the god-awful London weather as a terrified woman caught her eye. It hadn´t taken a genius to see that she needed help, since she was crying and practically hyperventilating, and Sally of course had immediately jumped into cop mode, trying to help. Sadly, the dark skinned woman had hardly spoken English and it had been hard to grasp what was happening. Sally understood something about a warehouse and some guys, but the rest had been strange words she never heard before. An African language perhaps? Sally guessed as the woman was dark skinned, thin and looked like refugee.  
She only understood how right she had been when she went to look at said warehouse and got captured, while the African woman probably already had run off**. **She had told her to stay put while she investigated the warehouse which was around the corner. She had expected a robbery or maybe an accident from one of the workers in the warehouses but not this: The two men didn't even seem to realize that they had recaptured the wrong women. That was probably because Sally was also in sweatpants and a loose jacket and of course, she guessed, the right skin colour. Nevertheless it became quite clear instantly that she had walked into a trap**, **literally. And to make the misery complete, she had left her mobile phone in her car.

So much for a peaceful run near the Thames, Sally thought, and cursed her luck once more.

As she had no choice but to be dragged further into the warehouse by the two armed goons who had caught her while she tried to peek through the window, Sally decided to assess the situation. So far she could make out there were at least four other men, all armed, who barely looked at them when they had entered. The warehouse was stacked with shipping containers, which upon further examination seemed to have people in them. Most of them were really dark skinned, African mostly, she guessed, and some looked like they could come from India or the Middle East. It didn't take Sally long to figure out that she had walked straight into a human traffickers' operation.

Cursing her luck, she once again tried to find a way to escape but found none since the criminal to her right still had a gun at her temple. The other was just holding her arm, but since both were also at least 15 centimetres bigger than her, she wouldn't have stood a chance against them without the gun. While the other men had at least normal figures, these two had muscles like bodyguards or something like that. So she complied and let herself be led to the "Boss", as the two thugs helpfully supplied, vowing to stay at home next free weekend, definitely.

Cause if that's what you got when you went out? Damn you for wanting to exercise.

That didn't stop her from cursing at the bad guys though. A Donovan didn't let herself be captured without resisting! Nevertheless she carefully watched the guys, not wanting to be killed instantly. But at least she could direct her anger at the persons that deserved it and it helped her to stay calm.

The thugs made her stop in front of a door and actually knocked, which seemed a little weird to Sally. Seconds later she was shoved into the room in front of a tall, skinny, ginger-haired haired guy, who (once she took a look at his face) made her nearly loose her footing.

What the fuck? This couldn´t be! Maybe he had a twin brother with a reddish hair or something? And a beard. The hair was a bit longer, but still curly...

No, it was a Doppelganger for sure!

There was no way this could be Sherlock bloody Holmes! He had died more than one and a half year earlier, damn it. And yes, it had been partly her fault, but this now? Maybe fate was having fun with her. Help in the suicide of a Consulting detective and get killed by one of his freaky criminal counterparts!

Or if this really was Sherlock, then...

The voices of the men pulled her out of her thoughts. They were talking about her punishment and Sally´s heart literally plummeted to somewhere close to her feet.

"Take her to the corner and secure her. I´m in charge here, so I get to decide the punishment!" the strange Sherlock double told the others, and Sally´s thoughts started racing again. Yes the voice was actually somewhat similar, but it couldn't be, could it?

She still refused to believe it!

Nevertheless the consulting detective, or whatever he was, ignored her shock and, in reply to the men's questions, announced that he was going to have fun with her, as she at least was a pretty one. The men laughed and Sally´s panic rose.

No. Please no.

No please not again. No...

The Flashback came when she was still trying to fight the men who cuffed her to the radiator in the corner.

"_SAAAALLLYYY!" It was a bellow and she tried to shrink into herself, making no noise, although she knew that hiding the in the cupboard wouldn't help her one bit. He would find her anyway. And it would probably earn her a beating. "SALLLYY!" the man bellowed again, and before she could even start to crawl the cupboard door was opened and she was grabbed harshly and pressed down onto the floor__**. **_

Back in present time, she found herself cuffed to both sides of the radiator with no room to pull away or shift back. The men were laughing heartily now, while she tried to see through tears which she couldn't stop, no matter how hard she tried.

The ginger-haired Sherlock just seemed to watch her, bellowing orders and shoving the men out of the room. Then they were alone and the man came over to her.

"Sally."

Sherlock.

The voice.

She had heard it often enough, she´d know it anywhere.

It was Sherlock.

He wasn't dead.

And he was going to rape her.

"_Oh come on stop crying you little idiot. You were made for this, you know that! You´re way too stupid for anything else. And I know you like it as well. All women do." He shoved her head into the pillows until she had a problem breathing for a few seconds. Sally still tried to shove him away, although it had already happened lots of times and she knew that, being a child, she stood no chance..._

Undead Sherlock was now directly in front of her. In her panic she hadn't even heard the last thing he said to her, but she didn't care. Testing the cuffs again she tried to get away, but there was no hope. She knew that, and somehow it made her resigned.

She had endured this before. She could take it. She wouldn´t...

"Donovan, damn it... I´m not going to hurt you!" Sherlock´s voice seemed clear through the haze for a moment and he moved touch her, but seeing her flinch, he didn't. "Sally!" He sounded a bit desperate, but maybe that was just her imagination, she had no idea, as she was trembling in earnest now. Was this what it felt like when someone went into shock?

Sherlock was silent now watching her, maybe waiting for the moment where he could scare her the most, or something else, she didn't want to know.

Or was it concern in his eyes?

"Shit!"

All of the sudden Sherlock jumped up, opened his fly, pushed down his trousers and took hold of her face, only to push her towards his body. Sally stifled a scream and felt bile rising in her throat as she was pressed into his... thigh. He wasn't pressing her face to his crotch, hell she could see he wasn't even hard. Maybe he really wasn't getting off on this...?

She hadn't time to think further as only nanoseconds later the door was opened, admitting one of the bodyguards. Sherlock shot around and snarled at him, while he still held her, the thumb strangely stroking through her hair as if to reassure her somewhat. What the hell? "Get the fuck out of here. I don't need an audience. I thought I had made myself clear, haven't I?"

The bully guy looked positively intimidated. "I just, I ..."

"Get the fuck out of here, if you want to keep all your limbs!" Sherlock said then with a voice that made even Donovan shiver, although she wasn't addressed. Whoa.

But that did it for the guy as well and he ran out of the room, closing the door with a bang.

Sherlock took a deep breath and closed his pants again, his eyes never leaving her. She had mostly stopped trembling now and the tears weren't flowing that rapidly, but the fear wasn't fully gone. Maybe he was just playing with her? How could she know?

He was a freak after all, wasn't he?

"Listen, I don't know how much time we have. What the hell are you doing here? Is the Yard onto this?" he barked at her and she started shivering again, but couldn't say anything. Damn it, she wasn't a damsel in distress! Never had been! She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

But Sherlock seemed to have already gotten what he wanted. "Ah, I see. The woman. You tried to help, of course you would. But the others have no idea, have they?"

She tried to hold down a sob that threatened to come out and managed just barely. Yes she was alone, damn it. All free for you to kill me, Freak. She thought and tried to swallow down her fear.

" Hm, it's better this way, believe me, Sally."

He came closer again, making her flinch away once more. Sherlock stopped and looked a bit sad for a second, then it was gone again.

"Donovan why would you even think that I...?" He asked silently, keeping his eyes on her , then suddenly he seemed to find something. "Oh. I didn't know. I should have..." he seemed agitated and started to pace around the room for a minute before he stopped again. "I´m sorry. I should have known. I´d never tried to... if I´d known I remind you..."

A knock on the door interrupted them once more and Sherlock stopped. " God, can't a guy have some fun around here? Come back later!" he bellowed.

"You should call the boss!" Came a hesitant reply from before the door and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Yes I will, now piss off, will you, or I´ll have my fun with you instead of this slut!" The fast paced steps told them that the man had gotten the hint and that they were alone now.

Sherlock seemed calmer again. " As I said, I don't know how much time we have until someone comes in, as you can see. Hell, the guys here are idiots!" He nearly smiled, or grimaced a bit, Sally wasn't sure.

"You are.. alive!"

Damn it, she finally had found her voice again. "How...why?" she managed in a reasonably steady voice, but Sherlock shushed her.

"Yes, obviously. Listen, I´m going to give you the quick version for now, because I know you won't shut up otherwise. No, I didn't die, I faked my death. It was necessary because John, my landlady and Lestrade were all to be killed if I wasn't dead. Moriarty had snipers on them. They are still being watched now, so it isn't safe, but I´m taking down Moriarty´s network of criminals so that I can come back again."

Sally said nothing, trying to take that in. What the fuck? If that was true...

And did that mean that he finally...

Sherlock groaned. "Why are you so fixed on me killing people? No, I don't kill them. I turn them in, either to the police or to my brother, depending on what they have done. Hell, you got an anonymous tip on that big fraud last week where you committed Simpson, right?"

Sally nodded.

"That was me. Believe it or not. Simpson was laundering the money for Moriarty´s organisation. I have more evidence, you will get it soon, once it's solid. Yes, I have finally learned to resolve the cases so that you actually can understand them and take them to court, isn't that splendid?" He grinned at that but then stopped.

"You don´t believe me." Sherlock stated then and Sally was quick to shake her head.

"No, that´s not it, its just.. why didn't you tell anyone?" Taking a ring of criminals alone? Was that even possible? Or was he taking it over?

"Ah, and to whom should I have told what had happened? You perhaps?"

Sally bit her lip at that. "Listen I ..."

"No, don't."

"But I never wanted you to jump..."

"I said don't. Don't apologize. You just did what everyone expected you to. Nothing more and nothing less."

Sally winced. As if that was better. "Whatever. I´m still sorry I accused you. Hell, we cleared all the cases a few months ago, did you know that? You probably do, right? And if you are really telling the truth.."

Sherlock sighed. "Sally, I am telling the truth. I´m not the bad guy you wish me to be, trust me on that."

"If not, then let me go. I`ll get Lestrade and ..."

Sherlock shook his head. "No. Cant."

"But..."

"I´m sorry, but you have to stay here for another two days. We´ll get another delivery on Monday morning and the guy who is connected to Moriarty is on that ship."

Another two days? Damn it! There was no way she was playing hostage for so long! How could he even think of that?

"Donovan, there's no way around that. Even if you free the people here, when the ship doesn't hear from us regularly they will drop the containers with the people into the sea. You don't want that, do you?"

Sally simply shook her head. No she really didn't want that.

Sherlock nodded. " I figured. Don't worry, I´ll keep you safe. I´ll just tell them that you are my bitch from now on. Fitting, isn't it?"

Sally attempted to show him the finger insofar as she managed with the handcuffs, which wasn't that easy, but Sherlock got the sentiment. "Fuck you, Freak."

"That's the Donovan spirit."

It made Sally nearly laugh. "Missed me, huh?" she teased, but Sherlock said nothing and she realized that maybe he had. He looked a bit tired, she thought then, but choseto say nothing.

"You know you can't tell them who I really am, right?" The ginger freak asked her and she gave him her best "Do you think I'm that stupid " look. Sherlock, surprisingly, didn't have a comeback; he just nodded.

"What do you call yourself nowadays anyway?" she asked then out of curiosity.

Sherlock huffed. "It's not as if I needed to give my real name to my bitch, is it?." He answered and started to open her cuffs. "But here, it's Sam Winston. It will change again once this is over."

When she was free, he cuffed her hands in front of her again and helped her up. She had no idea why, but she didn't resist. Maybe she was totally mad, but she chose to trust him. Just this once.

Probably would be her death, though.

But then again, if she would run now, there were many armed men outside and she doubted they would hesitate in shooting her.

"How about I call you bastard, then?" She offered.

Sherlock actually grinned. "Sounds about right."

He went two steps towards the door, but then came back to her as if he had forgotten something. "I´m sorry, Sally."

Not understanding what he was on about she gave him the "What?" look and only flinched slightly when he tore the hem off her shirt. Then he ruffled through her hair, which was weird, as he did it very gently, careful not to actually harm her. If Sally hadn't known better she would have guessed it was an attempt to comfort her instead.

"Raped women can't look this neat." Sherlock explained and Sally simply nodded.

There was nothing more to say.


	2. Chapter 2

Sally had been brought back to "her" container, where it had taken about half an hour until she could think straight again. Sherlock was alive. And she just had escaped rape. Or had she?

The fucking freak was actually alive!

A part of her regretted that she hadn't hit him. Why the hell hadn't she? Ah yes, she had been bound most of the time, damn it. But she should have thought about that when he had re-cuffed her.

She would hit him later she decided. If the reason for faking his death was true, it was noble yes, but it wasn't fucking right to put John Watson, his nice and friendly landlady, and yes, even her Boss through this grief.

And yes, she was still pissed he didn't ask for help. Why did the great consulting detective always think he could do anything alone?

Because he thought he was Superman, that was it. Sherlock fucking Superman Holmes. Smarter and faster than all. Damn the freak.

Yet again, she found herself doubting the story he had told her. What if he had just made it up? But then again, why didn't he rape her like he said he would? He sure as well hated her enough!

The name of the criminal had been right though. And so far they had kept the case under wraps to make sure the press didn't get wind of it before they had collected more evidence.

Once again she found herself looking for a way out, but finding none, as the men were watching them carefully now. All windows were barricaded with big boxes and the two doors leading outdoors were looked and there were men in front of them, weapons ready at all times.

And so the next day and night mostly consisted of waiting and lying low. She mostly sat in her container, which she shared with 13 other men, women and even two little children. They all had their hands cuffed in front of them, except for the little boy who couldn't have been more than a year old. The containers had a few mattresses in them and a few belongings of the people who were there with her, but otherwise they were empty. Luckily there was one toilet at the end of the hall which all the people of the four containers could use, but Sally didn't want to imagine what it had been like when they had been at sea. While the thugs still hadn't noticed, the people in the container of course had immediately realised that Sally was new and in as a result were staying away from her. They probably thought she was there to spy or something, she figured.

Also it was apparent, that most of them only understood the very basics of the English language. How the criminals hadn't made the connection when she had cursed them in her best local slang had her puzzled. Maybe Sherlock was right and they were dense. But it was lucky for her at least. If they´d get any idea, that she was a cop, they probably would shoot her instantly.

What she did get though, was that the prisoners were really afraid of them. The criminals taunted a woman who wasn't quick enough for them on the toilet with: if she didn't butch up and hurry, they would do the same to her as they had done to other problem makers on the ship. Sally figured out quickly that they had simply thrown the people in the sea and she shuddered. Fucking bastards.

So far they had gotten some hard bread and some kind of porridge which looked more like sludge, but Sally had only nibbled on it and then given her portion to one of the children. Luckily there was water in some canisters where people could drink from, so she wouldn't go thirsty as well, but it really wasn't the Ritz and her arms were starting to hurt from being in the cuffs all the time.

While the people and the criminals went on with their business, whatever it was, Sally tried to watch and use the information. Sadly, she couldn't figure out a rhythm to the changing of the men at the door, probably Sherlock´s doing. The freak had told her to lie low until Monday morning, but Sally wouldn't have it and so she continued to look around.

There had to be a way out. She couldn't just sit down and wait.

She became aware of the thug who lingered around her container longer than the criminals usually did, all eyes on a young African woman, who maybe was two or three years younger than Sally herself. The way he looked at her instantly rang several alarm bells in Sally´s head.

Damn it. Either this was common here, or Sherlock´s punishment for her had given him ideas. Whatever it was, she wasn't going to watch.

Before Sally could do anything, the man had already closed in on the women. It was one of the goons which had dragged Sally into the warehouse, and he grabbed the poor woman. The woman was frantic and began to scream but the other criminals gave the scene no mind while the refugees shrunk back in fear of being shot. Sally contemplated for a second to ask them to help her, but decided against it, since she had no idea if they would understand her at all. So she went into action all by herself.

"Hey." She shouted and moved to get behind the man who was now leading the woman into one of the side rooms of the hall, which once had to have been some kind of office or something. "Leave her alone!"

The man ignored her so Sally simply did what she had to. She jumped the man from behind making them fall into the office and onto the floor. While the African woman crawled away from them and huddled in a corner, Sally tried to use her handcuffs to choke the man, but couldn't get enough leverage to get her arms over his head. They wrestled on the floor, and the thug got her in the ribs and at her upper lip once, before she was torn away from him by someone else.

As she looked up she realized it was Sherlock, who looked pretty pissed. "What´s going on here?" he barked.

Sally was sure he knew but she didn't dare to say anything.

"I.." the man started but Sherlock already went on, keeping his strong hold on her arm which made her wince.

"You what? I assume you haven't asked?"

"I don't..?"

"She could have easily been a special order. You know what that means, don't you? Tell that to the big bosses will you?"

Now the man went pale and shook his head. "No please..."

Then the freak´s glance went over to her and he looked pretty possessive which creeped Sally out. "And what were you doing with her? She´s mine now. I asked. And I don't take it well if someone touches my possessions."

Sally told herself that she couldn't snap at him although she wanted to. But it would have blown her cover; she never would be taken for a refugee if she started elaborate discussions in English. That, and it was kind of amusing seeing the bastard squirm before the freak. They were both about the same height, but the man was twice as muscular as Sherlock. Yet he seemed to be scared.

"Boss .. I swear I didn't... she was.. I didn't touch her.." the man pleaded now, but from Sherlock´s expression it was instantly clear that he wouldn't have it. With a speed which Sally wouldn't have thought he had, he was on the man, grabbing his right hand before bending one of his fingers back. A moment later, a sickening crack filled the room and the man howled in pain, while Sherlock seemed as calm as if he hadn't done anything out of the ordinary.

"Get out of my sight before I forget myself and break them all. And take that woman back to her quarters." he barked , indicating the still silently weeping African woman. The man simply nodded wordlessly and hurried to do so, but not before another warning from Sherlock to not touch her or else...

Another lethal look went out to the bystanders and onlookers outside. "Anyone else? Good. Now leave us alone for an hour." With that command the door closed behind them and they were alone.

Sally swallowed and wouldn't ever have admitted that she was terrified of the consulting detective. But at that moment she was. Especially since he was directly in front of her face now, with a stare as hard as ice.

"What do you think you were doing, Donovan?" He snarled into her ear. "Try that again and I wont.."

"He was going to rape her!" she hissed back, angry now, but keeping her voice barely above an angry whisper, knowing that they could be overheard. Of course she was going to help. She was a cop damn it!

"So what? You jump him, so that he can rape you as well?"

"What would you have done? Just watched? That´s a human being out there. I couldn't just watch him hurt her!"

Sherlock huffed. "Collateral damage. You should know that you can't save everyone."

"Collateral damage?" How could he? Sally nearly lost it there. "You don't have any idea what rape does to someone, have you? Or you wouldn't.." She shook her head and wanted to scream and lunge at him.

Sherlock said nothing and simply watched her. It unnerved Sally.

"Why did you save me, then?" She asked but that didn't get any reaction either. "You wouldn't let them rape me, would you?"

Silence. Instead of answering Sherlock took a look at her split lip and prodded a bit at it. "It´ll heal." he stated while Sally tried to get away from him, not wanting to be close.

Sally sighed. She wasn't going to get an answer, but she hoped he wouldn't let them do such a thing. Maybe he was really protecting her, which felt a bit weird. She hadn't had anyone protect her since forever, because she didn't need it. She was a cop damn it. She was doing the protecting nowadays.

"What did you mean with special orders?" she then asked, being curious.

Sherlock actually grimaced. "Some of the clients of these people had actual specifications about what they wanted to buy."

That made Sally raise an eyebrow. She had a feeling that couldn't be good, but asked anyway. "Like what?"

"Let's just say, for example, the kids weren't going to go to same the clients as their parents."

Now it was Sally who grimaced. "Paedophiles."

"Exactly." It was apparent that Sherlock was disturbed as well, and even if this surprised Sally, she was glad he felt the same. The freak had feelings. She had confirmed it. Sadly it wasn't a moment of triumph or of saying "I told you so. You are human as well."

That, and she was still a bit scared of him, damn it.

Sherlock though didn't even notice her staring at him; he was looking towards the door instead, contemplating.

"Sally? I need you to scream for me. This room isn't..."

She got it in one. This room was far too close, they needed to hear something.

And scream she did. A loud "Nooo!" complete with sobs and all, and the consulting detective raised an eyebrow at this movie-like performance but he didn't say anything. Sally nearly laughed. "Years of experience playing the victim in self defence courses for women."

Sherlock huffed, but she could see the hints of a smile at his lips. It was weird, at times it nearly seemed like they could work together in a team for once without causing the apocalypse, then he suddenly seemed to do something which scared her and she´d reel back. It was probably because he was a true Psychopath; he knew how to manipulate people after all, she reminded herself.

And yet...

"The shipment is going to arrive between 5 and 6 tomorrow morning. Once they have arrived, they´ll do a meeting here in the warehouse to coordinate further shipments of people. I´ll get Josefson and then I´ll make sure you get access to Lukeshov´s mobile so that you can call Lestrade." Sherlock grumbled, tearing Sally away from her thoughts.

"Lukeshov?" She asked, having no idea who this was. Nobody here had introduced themselves after all.

"The nice gentleman you nearly made acquaintance with." Sherlock stated and she nodded. "I figured he´d make a good scapegoat. But first I have something for you." With that he took out a USB-Stick and pressed it into her hands. "This has all the evidence on it. Names of the people outside, the names of the buyers and helpers and old shipments and so on. This group has some computer experts so I wanted to make sure you got it before they suspect anything."

She took the stick from him and hid it in the inside pocket of her jacket which luckily even had a zipper so that it wouldn't fall out. "And how do I know that you weren't the one who organized all this and now you're making sure that you can flee undetected and unseen by giving us false evidence?"

Sherlock let out a deep breath " God we have been through..." He shook his head. "You don't. And I get that you don't want to trust me after I faked my own death, but I´m telling the truth. Only you have to trust me this once. Not for me, but for the lives of John, Mrs Hudson and your boss. If word gets out that I´m alive and hunting them, Moriarty´s network will kill them, and their blood will be on your hands. And believe me, if that happens, I will forget myself and make sure your life wont be a happy one either."

He snarled the last sentence which made Sally sink back against the wall. Of course he was threatening her, she should have expected it. Stay strong, don't show him fear, she told herself and forced her head up to look him straight in the eyes. What she saw there made her stop. There was no direct hate there, like she had expected, more like some kind of resignation or even a tiny bit of fear. He really wanted her to believe him.

Or was he just good at acting?

Another sigh came from the consulting detective, who now sat down in front of her again and took out his I phone. "I don't like you knowing too much but you always have been stubborn, haven't you?" He typed something into his phone and then proceeded to show her a picture of middle aged dark haired man in military clothes. "Okay don't go telling spreading this around, but this is Josefson, the man I´m after. He was a close friend of Moriarty´s, getting him people for his slave rings and sex clubs. He also made sure that people who harmed Moriarty would just disappear. That, and the MI6 wants him for treason and killing two of their agents, so he´ll be going to the authorities once I have asked him a few questions..."

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Thanks to sevenpercent for beta reading!

I´ll try and update this story each week from now on and hope I´ll manage to finish the chapters in time, a bit of cheering on could help though.


	3. Chapter 3

Sally didn't sleep the next night, as she was way too nervous. She had decided she would trust the freak this time and she hoped she was right. Sherlock had told her more details of the plan after explaining to her why he went after Simpson a few weeks ago and how Simpson was connected to Josefson and this slave ring. Apparently it had also been Simpson who recommended Sherlock, or Sam Winston as he called himself here, for this job. Sherlock met Josefson for about five minutes, and had gotten the job, but of course wasn't able to take down Josefson immediately. Then he made sure that Simpson's crimes would come to light just a few days after Sherlock had jetted towards Africa to join the crew on the ship.

Sally could tell that he wanted Josefson badly, and from the stuff Sherlock had shown her, he deserved to go to prison tenfold. But it was also apparent that Sherlock seemed shaken sometimes, when he mentioned travelling on the ship with the exiles. From what she had caught from the other refugees, he had all the right to be. But Sherlock, of course, wouldn't talk.

When they were finished plotting, he lead her back to her container again, complete with a show of her struggling and him actually shoving her into the container. It may have been on purpose, but the push had been so hard that she lost her footing. Unable to catch herself due to the cuffs, she hit her head on the iron wall which made her world go fuzzy for a few seconds. He had told her to struggle, and in a way she should have been expecting it, but this?

Fucking freak.

She'd punch him anyway, she´d decided. Just when he least expected it.

The waiting was dreadful, and Sally found herself staring at her watch every few minutes while most of the refugees around her slept. It was finally 6:41 when she heard a car outside. Someone banged onto the door five times, and the armed guard stationed there opened it without hesitation and greeted his friends.

In came three men who looked like the thugs who had caught Sally a few days ago, and a guy in his fifties, with blondish hair with a few silvered streaks through it. He looked like the respectable guy from next door, maybe 1,90 meters tall, a nice smile and pretty blue eyes to go with it, but Sally knew this couldn't be further from the truth. And so she tried to look somewhere else as Josefson walked in, still hearing Sherlock´s warning that she really didn't want to direct Josefson´s attention to her. "He likes pretty women" Sherlock had said. "Takes them as he wants, and where he wants. He doesn't care if anyone is present, but his men know to leave him then anyway. Most of the time the women don't survive the encounter."

Lay low. He told her this three times as if she hadn't heard it the first time. She wanted to scream at him: I bloody well get it! But surprisingly she didn't. as he probably meant well. She let the men disappear into the former office of the warehouse, where they greeted some of the thugs. Sherlock was strolling towards them as well now, and she could see that their plan would start soon. Sherlock followed the new guys into the office to greet Josefson and Sally knew she had only about two minutes. She got up as carefully and as silently as she could, without disturbing any of the other refugees and without alerting the two men, who were still watching the doors of the hall. Then she quietly went out of her container, made sure that the man from the back-door was staring in the opposite direction, and hid behind some large, old crates, which looked like they had been there for ages already.

Now she could only wait.

And she didn't have to wait long. Just a few moments later, the door of the ex-office opened again and all men strolled out, most of them armed. They made quite a ruckus and woke the refugees who were asleep in front of the containers. In the process, the armed men shoved the refugees into the containers and locked them inside. Sherlock deliberately walked towards "her container", which was the one at the deeper end of the warehouse, and pushed the people in. Once everyone was locked up, he proceeded to go around the container for a control walk to make sure nobody had been left outside. The other men did the same with their containers and each gave the all clear signal.

Sally held her breath as Sherlock walked by her. Of course he knew that she was outside the container, but she was still scared that the other men would notice as well. But everything went smoothly. Sherlock looked around for a bit, as if searching the corner where Sally was hiding and dropped a small package into Sally´s lap in the process. Nodding that all was clear, he went back to where the criminals were, while Sally opened the small bag and took out the mobile which had been placed in there.

She could hear Sherlock talking loudly on purpose, so she started to call the Yard´s number. In the meantime, Sherlock made sure that Josefson and his men went into the meeting room. According to Sherlock, the men often went in there to eat or for their team talks as they had their supplies in there. It was on the opposite side of the hall from the former office, slightly bigger and therefore better suited for about 10 men than the smaller office, and it had no windows. But that wasn't the reason why Sherlock had chosen it.

Sally´s call went through, and she nearly sobbed as she heard Greg´s voice. It was a few minutes past seven, and she had never been so glad that Lestrade often went to work early. Normally it made her feel slightly guilty when she showed up at the normal hours, about an hour later, but today Greg´s lack of sleep was the best thing in the world. "Greg, listen to me, it's Sally." She whispered, always making sure no one heard anything. "I'm in the blue warehouse next to the docks. Me and about 50 refugees are being held prisoner by ten men. There are two with guns, one protecting each door and eight more in a room inside, possibly armed as well. Please alert the others."

She had chosen to phone Greg directly because he would listen to her without asking questions. He knew her well enough that this voice of hers meant that she had no time and that he should listen without interrupting. That, and she trusted him the most of them all. "20 Minutes, we all heard!" Greg answered, and Sally gave her okay before ending the call. Okay, so they had been searching for her already. That surprised her a bit, but she suspected Anderson had alerted them when she hadn't called him Saturday evening to ask for the ID on the fingerprints from the Welson case they had been working on. She put the phone into her pocket after making sure it was set to silent, and took the key which had been hidden in the bag as well, and slowly got up. Making sure the guy at the back-door wouldn't notice, she ran for cover behind the containers and crouched forward.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she made her way towards the corridor, and therefore the meeting room door. Hiding behind some well placed equipment, which Sherlock had ordered to be put there the evening before, she tried to catch her breath and waited.

The men at the doors seemed oblivious as far as she could tell. So far so good.

It seemed like an eternity until the steal door of the room opened again. Josefson was the first to come out, and Sherlock followed behind him. "Okay, good work everyone, take some time to catch some breath and eat something. Joel and me need a few minutes alone, but then we´ll join you guys again." Sherlock told the men, before he shut the door behind him. She could hear cheering from the men as approval of the break that was given. Sherlock and the crime boss walked a bit further down the corridor, before they went into the room, where Sally had first met Sherlock. Once this door was closed, she carefully moved towards the corridor. She held her breath once more as she moved the two meters where she theoretically could have been seen by the guy at the front door, if he hadn't been that interested in his morning cigarette.

But she was lucky and made it into security without being noticed. Grabbing the key, she inserted it into the lock as quietly as she could, and turned it slowly, locking it. The door gave one slight "Click", then another, but the voices from inside seemed so much louder, so she was sure she hadn't been heard.

Inwardly she cheered for her completed mission, before she took the key again and looked into the direction where Josefson and Sherlock had vanished. Originally Sherlock had told her to go back into hiding and wait until he would get her after he had taken Josefson out. Yet later she could not say what it was that made her walk behind the two of them. Slowly, still watching out and making sure no one could hear or see her, she went towards the room where the Consulting Detective was. Holding her breath, she was just about to put her ear at the door, when she suddenly heard steps and a well known voice came floating towards her. It was hard to make out what he had been saying. She didn't even have the chance to duck as the door was opened slightly, and she came face to face with the ginger-haired man she once had disliked so much.

Said male stopped at the sight of her, eyes going big before mouthing "RUN!" at her, as another voice behind him spoke up, complete with the tell tale click of a loaded weapon.

"Did you really think I would not recognize you, Holmes?" Josefson said, and Sherlock slowly raised his hands and turned around to face Josefson, while Sally shrunk behind the still open door, in hopes that she hadn't been seen by the criminal.

_Fucking hell! Damn it! This wasn't happening_, was all what she could think, while she frantically took in her surroundings to find something to help her.

Just when you thought it couldn't get worse...

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Anyone reading?


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

A look around the corridor told Sally, that there was nothing near her which could be of any use. She remembered that there were some iron rods in the equipment that Sherlock had put up yesterday, just down the corridor, but there wasn't a chance that she could get one. The equipment was in sight of the man at the front door and if she dared she would have to get the tarp off it which a) would take too long and b) would be way too loud. She would be shot on sight. And probably alert Josefson as well, who then already would have had plenty time to shoot Sherlock.

Forcing herself to breath calmly, she got closer to the still open door and peeked into the room. Sherlock was slowly backing away while Josefson had turned sidewards now, trying to get Sherlock into the corner where Sally had been secured to the radiator. It was kind of ironic that he was supposed to end up there as well, she thought.

"So you are going to shoot me?" Sherlock asked and Sally nearly gasped. Was the freak bonkers? No wait, she knew the answer to that already. He was just plain crazy, wasn't he?

Josefson just laughed though. "Oh no, that would be boring, wouldn't it? No, imagine what I could do with you. Imagine what will happen once the word got out that the great consulting detective is still alive? So many people would like to have some time with you! Why would I shoot you if I can make you beg for you death? Cause that's what you will be doing once everyone is through with you!"

Sherlock huffed and looked around the room for a second, probably seeing Sally as well, before he glared at Josefson again.

"Don't try anything though. I will shoot you. Although not fatally." Josefson promised and Sally nearly huffed in response.

_Bollocks_, she thought, while Sherlock was backed up in the corner now. _Not if I can help it_.

Knowing she had to do something now while Sherlock was still free, she signalled him to get down and hoped he would understand. Then without further thinking, she ran into the room, arms above her head and jumped Josefson. Sherlock of course had understood immediately. He had threw himself down, while Sally first put her cuffed hands over Josefson´s head and then pulled him backwards with the cuffs at his throat, choking him in the process. The criminal struggled and managed to get Sally in her ribs with his elbow once, but then he went down straight away as well, giving Sherlock time to hit his arm, so that his gun went flying. Only milliseconds later the consulting detective had gotten something which looked like an epipen out of his bag and injected him with it.

Josefson screamed, well actually more croaked in rage and Sally feared someone must have overheard, before suddenly all hell broke loose: There was a shout and then a shot which might have come from the front door, prompting the men in the breakfast room, who found they had been locked in.

More shouts and screams followed. Banging against the steel door. Shots from inside and outside and there seemed to be noise everywhere, while Sherlock and then Sally as well, held down Josefson until he stilled.

"Sedative?" She finally asked, but the consulting detective didn't answer her question. Instead he hissed at her.

"Why didn't you run like I told you to!"

What the hell was he playing at? "I was supposed to let you become his plaything? Do you really take me for..." Sally was angry now. What did he think she was?

"I had it under control."

Damn twat."Yeah of course. I saw that. " She was close to jumping him now, still full with adrenaline, and nervous from the noise of the front door being broken down.

Sherlock still looked somewhat pissed, but then he suddenly sighed and his face softened somewhat. "Well thank you, I guess. But don't do that again unless you have a death-wish."

Sally grumbled and was just about to say something as he intercepted again., getting up. "That's not what I meant. You were lucky, without that noise from outside he would have heard you before you would have been close enough to attack. So like I said: Thank you. But don't do that again."

Sally was baffled. He was concerned? Really? About her? She didn't get to think much further as there were more shouts from outside. Then shots. Banging. Something which sounded like someone throwing themselves against a door. Shots from the inside. Curses. A police siren.

The cavalry had really arrived. Thank god. Yet it was probably better to have an eye on the door. She picked up Josefson´s gun, just in case they would get visitors.

But it was only a matter of time now and they would be safe.

That prompted Sherlock to work faster though. He took the cuffs from the radiator and secured the unconscious Josefson with them before getting up and pulling away a cupboard at the opposite corner of the room. Sally got up at once and helped him as well as she could with her hands still cuffed. After pulling out the cupboard about 1 Meter, she saw what he was on about.

"There´s a shaft towards the sewer. You knew this." She exclaimed only somewhat surprised.

Sherlock nearly grinned. "Yes, my escape route. Of course I checked the building plans." He looked at her like he was asking her if she really had expected something else and Sally shook her head. Of course she hadn't.

"If you had checked them Sally, you would have known that this was a slaughterhouse once and this room was where they dumped the blood into the sewer. Perfect for slipping out really." To emphasize this he dumped the unconscious Josefson down the hole. A slight splashing noise could be heard and when Sally peeked through the hole, she could make out the body in a puddle of dirty, smelling water. She wrinkled her nose, not trying to think what kind of old blood, body parts and other stuff she was most likely was a loud bang from the corridor.

More shots. Police were in the hall now. A bang. The squeak of the steel door.

"Police! Everyone stand down!" Lestrade. Sally couldn't help but smile. Of course he would have been up front even when the commissioner and the other higher ups probably would have tried to prevent it. She was one of his team after all. She found herself getting closer to the door to take a look and was surprised when Sherlock was behind her.

Lestrade and a few more men were still standing in front of the now open steel door while the rest of the swat team went into the room, to take care of the eight men there.

Fighting noises could be heard from the room, but Sally knew the men were done for, especially since Sherlock had promised to make sure the guys didn't have lots of ammunition. She continued to hold the gun ready though, just in case

"It seems like they have everything under control. Make sure they got everyone." Sherlock told her and she turned around. It was clear he was ready to run off now and he already set to go as...

"Damn it John, you were supposed to stay back!"

Sally´s eyes went big as she heard this and she looked at Sherlock who now strained to take a peek into the corridor once again.

"You called for a medic, Greg. Also Sally said there were ten and you have two outside and eight in there, haven't you? So..." The rest was much quieter as John had walked up to Greg, obviously armed with med supplies, and they could only hear parts of it. But Sally didn't even try to hear every word that was said. Instead, she continued to watch her companion.

Sherlock looked like he had seen a ghost. But his face had told her so much more the second they had heard John´s voice.

"You love him." She only realised at the last word, that she had spoken out loud, but Sherlock didn't answer and turned away again. So Sally followed him.

"I thought he wasn't consulting anymore.." Sherlock stated and Sally shrugged. She hadn't seen John in months. She was surprised he was here as well. Hell, as far as she knew he didn't have contact with any of them.

Sherlock seemed torn, a bit agitated, but then walked towards the hole in the floor again and Sally made sure she caught up.

"I..." She stopped, biting her lip. "Watch out, will you? Cause I´ll miss your insults. I mean, you plan on coming back, right?" Sherlock´s eyebrows went up in surprise, before his lips formed a short smile, which lasted about a second or two before it went away again. He nodded though.

Sally smiled back and it was weird, thinking that this was goodbye again. She´d be the only one to know. To the others he was still dead.

And he looked so lost to her, even though he was playing all strong.

What made her do the next thing she would never know, but she lifted her arms and gently ruffled through Sherlock's hair, similar to how he´d done when they first met in this room.

To her surprise Sherlock didn't jump away, he looked at her for a few seconds, then nodded before he jumped down the hole. When she was sure he had landed safely, she tossed him the gun as it needed to vanish as well. Then Sally closed the hatch again and proceeded to push the cupboard onto it.

It took a small amount of time, but voilà: Nobody would have suspected that somebody fled from here.

And just in time as well, as the door flew open and Sally found herself face to face with two men of the swat team and a bit further behind, Lestrade.

#

It took about one hour until everything was processed and all the evidence was collected. Sally had identified all the men so that they were sure they got everyone. She didn't say anything about Sherlock and Josefson and she knew that the criminals knew better than to rat out their boss. Apparently Josefson liked to send back traitors to their families piece by piece and since they thought he was still free, they were clearly afraid. She had asked Sherlock how anyone would risk working for such a man and he said he´d guess it was because he paid extremely well.

Sally had just shook her head at that. She´d never understand this. But that was why she was a cop and not a criminal, wasn´t it?

So far she had successfully avoided John Watson, who was still helping with checking the refugees for injuries and sicknesses, and she vowed to let it stay that way. At least she now knew what the hell he was doing here. Apparently Lestrade had met up with John Watson yesterday evening, right after John´s shift in the local A&E, like they had been doing every now and then. When Anderson had called Greg, they still had been at the pub together and John had wanted to help. From what she had heard, none of the three had slept much as they had spent the night looking for Sally. She was a bit surprised about John spending the night seaching to be honest, but that didn`t change the fact that she couldn´t face him at the moment.

Therefore, she made sure he stayed busy.

What also became clear now was, that the whole ordeal was slowly catching up with her. She was afraid of breaking down and saying something she would regret in gernal, but especially when she faced John. She had promised Sherlock to not tell him or the others anything, and she wanted to keep this promise. That didnt mean, she couldn´t take a peek here and there though.

And so she peeked around the corner and watched as John treated the little boy who had been in the container with her. Transfixed, she didnt even notice Lestrade walking up to her again.

"You all right, Sally?" he asked and she nodded and fought the urge to roll her eyes. Hell, she had told him that four times already.

"Okay, but I´d still feel better if John would check up on you, just to be sure." he pleaded once again and Sally sighed. So far she had managed to postpone the check up, always pointing out refugees who needed to go first or evidence which needed to be collected. Sadly this wouldn´t work now.

"I´m all right, Sir. I´m not hurt anywhere, really. Just a few scratches."

And that wasn't even a lie. She was okay, really. Her wrists were a bit red and tender and she guessed she had gotten a nice blue souvenier when Josefson had elbowed her in the rips, but apart from that it was only a few minor bumps and scratches. She didn't even feel the one from Sherlock anymore.

The thing she was starting to notice was, that she was bone tired. Therefore, she couldn't help the yawn that escaped her after that sentence.

"Greg?" she turned to face him now and her boss smiled at her reassuringly. "If it's all right, I´d rather go home now and sleep. I feel like I will drop any minute now."

To her surprise, Greg nodded. "Okay. I´ll tell the others at the Yard that they´ll get your witness statement tomorrow. We are busy with the refugees anyway. Get some rest, Sally. I´m glad you are okay." he patted her shoulder carefully as if not to startle her, and she smiled back at him. He probably thought she was in shock or something, but she couldn´t care less. Right now she really just wanted to go home.

"Thanks. I will" She turned to go and Lestrade accompanied her outside.

"You know you were brave, don´t you?" He told her and Sally snorted.

"I´m a cop, Greg. Being brave is our job. Get some sleep as well, will you? And say hi to John from me."

And with that she got into a police car, which then drove off. Of course Greg had insisted that she shouldn't drive in her tired state and she had indulged him. At least he hadn't asked for the check up again.

Looking at London passing by her car window, Sally finally allowed herself to really breath again for the first time in days and remiscised.

#

Two weeks later, the Yard got the message that Jonah Josefson, the head of the whole human trafficker ring, had been caught by the MI6. According to the report they had found him in a hotel called „Merci Sali". Sally had snorted at that.

But the most improtant thing was that the freak had kept his word.

And Sally was glad that she had done the right thing.

_Now the freak just needed to come back_, she thought and grinned, still a bit surprised she was actually looking forward to that.

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Well Sally, be careful what you wish for ...or what do you guys think?


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for the reviews! Glad someone likes it .. so here is more for you two!

**Chapter 5**

The next time she saw him was, surprisingly, only a few weeks later. Ironically it had been a new opportunity for a free weekend and she had taken it, ready for some well deserved rest, damn it. The only complication had been her neighbour, who had asked Sally if she could watch her son for a night, as she herself had had an emergency in her family. But Sally had agreed instantly. She loved the little 3 year old boy from next door, who called her auntie Sally most of the time, even though they weren't related. And since, with this job, she probably would never have children of her own, she at least could play part-time mom once in a while.

So here she was sitting in front of her TV on a Friday night, watching a comedy show, while little Turner slept peacefully next to her on the sofa, when suddenly there was someone banging on the door. Cursing whoever was disturbing her near midnight, she walked over to her door as fast as possible, hoping that the banging wouldn't wake Turner.

Who the hell was this at this hour anyway? Couldn't they have called? Maybe the Met needed her help, she mused, but dismissed it instantly. No, they really would have called beforehand.

Nevertheless, nothing prepared her for the sight of a shell shocked Molly and a heavily bleeding Sherlock Freak Holmes in her arms. Was he smelling her free weekends now or what?

"I´m sorry but Sherlock was shot!" Molly supplied and Sally just sighed and tried not to snap.

"Yeah I can see that."

A pleading look from the young woman and a pained grunt from Sherlock. "Help? Please, they are watching my flat and I can't bring him to an actual hospital…"

Sally took another deep breath and nodded, before she helped them into her apartment. "Best go into the bathroom to clean up first. I have some first aid stuff there." She supplied and added, "And please be quiet, I have a guest tonight and he shouldn't see any of this."

While Molly looked surprised and a bit uncomfortable- she probably thought it was a lover or something- Sherlock didn't seemed to be disturbed by this. "Don't worry, we won't scare the little boy. Molly will just patch me up and we will be out of your hair."

Not really wanting to know how the hell the freak had known this again, Sally followed them into the bathroom and got the first aid kit and a few old towels. "What the hell happened to you anyway?" She asked while Molly began to pry Sherlock´s bloody coat and shirt off of him.

Against her expectations, Sherlock answered between hisses as Molly prodded further. "A man from Moriarty´s net recognized me and tried to kill me, obviously. Luckily I managed to dodge his shots, except for one. I couldn't have foreseen that the bullet would go through the door which I was hiding behind. But like I said, its nothing major…ooh damn it." He reassured her and cursed as Molly was now cleaning the wound to get a better look.

Sally nearly smiled at this display of emotion, but swallowed it quickly as she was not really happy about the freak´s pain and didn't want to give him such ideas. Somehow she liked when he showed his human side, though. As weird as this sounded.

While Molly asked for tweezers, Sherlock looked like he was about to get up and walk away in the middle of the operation, which in turn made her quite angry.

"Damn it Sherlock, stay still, I have to get the bullet out. And it's not as shallow as you thought. You will require stitches and a few days rest."

Further protest. "I can not..!"

And an even angrier Molly emerged. Sally was impressed, especially since she never heard such expletives coming out of Molly´s mouth. "Yes you can! You were luckier than you think. A few centimetres further and it would have hit your liver. And it's still dangerous. If you get an infection… hell you know what happens then, you are old enough and intelligent enough to know." Molly rambled on and then plucked out the tiny bullet with the tweezers, before gently pressing down a gauze on the wound to slow the bleeding.

"Okay. I can stitch it now.. just to be sure. Should only need a few stitches."

There was more grumbling from Sherlock, and an attempt to get up forced Sally to hold him down. Sally had heard enough. "Shut it freak!" she told him, and she helped Molly to secure the gauze to his belly. It had been a stroke of luck, that she still had supplies from the stab wound she had suffered last year. Nevertheless, Molly was concerned that they didn't have any antibiotics.

"He really needs some, just to be sure." She added. "If he gets an infection he could go into shock. " She told Sally and then turned to Sherlock, who was trying to get up once again. "You know that shock could also happen if you strain yourself too much with a fresh wound. But I don't need to tell that to you, do I?"

Sherlock grumbled something again about having important things to do, and Sally made a decision. Together with Molly, she helped Sherlock up and put him into her bed. "You stay here, freak. Don't make me break out the handcuffs!" She offered, eliciting a thankful smile from Molly and nearly making herself laugh. " I mean it, freak." She added for emphasis and Sherlock looked like he was pouting. To her surprise though, he stayed put while she found him a very old but big T shirt, which she normally used as a nightgown, and he even put it on. It was still a bit short, and the sweatpants she had given him were much too short, but for bed they would do. He needed to get a new shirt anyway, as his white shirt was soaked with blood, and even his coat had some big stains which dry cleaners would probably despair over.

But they would see to that later. At first he needed to rest, damn it. Preferably without making snarky comments. They were lucky though, apparently the blood loss had left the freak exhausted, and once Molly coaxed him into taking some pain medication, he fell into a restless sleep. Sally was quite shocked he was so compliant, to be honest, but she guessed he was more run-down than he would ever admit.

Molly seemed surprised as well and muttered a "Thank god!" before walking into the hallway and leaving Sherlock to sleep.

"Listen, I need to go as I have the weekend shift in the morgue. I was just about to leave my flat as he came to me, and now I´m really late." She sighed and fretted a bit, clearly not happy about this. "Maybe he can rest here until Sunday? I know you don't like him much, but he really isn't that bad once you get to know him a bit. I´ll try and bring some antibiotics tomorrow, well, in a few hours actually…" The young woman was pleading and Sally sighed once more.

Another free weekend gone. Damn bloody Sherlock Holmes. He was doing that on purpose, wasn´t he? Why did she give a damn about him anyway? She should throw him out onto the street and tell him to piss off and….

Nevertheless, she found herself nodding weakly. She could deal with two overnight guests, no problem. They were just two little boys instead of one after all, right?

"I´ll be contacting his brother, so maybe Mycroft will get him out of your hair sooner, but I cant promise anything,. Sherlock said he is on business in Europe or something." Molly tried to reassure Sally. After describing the symptoms of shock three times to Sally, and making sure Sally would call her, Molly left hurriedly.

Sally just sighed for the umpteenth time that night and looked at the clock in the living room: 3:28.

Great, that had taken longer than expected. But at least Turner hadn't woken up, so that was a plus. She went to check on him, but he was still peacefully asleep on the sofa. Sherlock seemed to be okay as well, so she switched off the already mute television and finally fell asleep on the inflatable bed which she had put out for the little one.

#

Sherlock managed a total of five hours sleep, before he started to wander around again and get on Sally´s nerves. He was wincing more often than not when he moved. Sally finally managed to get him to go back to bed when she gave him her laptop for research. Or porn. Or whatever he wanted to do with it. She didn't care at this moment anyway.

Turner woke up a few minutes later and switched the TV on for some morning cartoons, which Sally let him do this time. Normally she would play and sing with him, as TV wasn't good for kids his age. But today she couldn't care. Still tired after the bloody night, she wandered into the kitchen and whipped up some eggs on toast. Leaving some for her and Turner, Sally put some eggs and toast on the plate and brought them to Sherlock, who didn't seem too happy about it. She placed the plate on her night-stand anyway, called him an ungrateful git and left the room again to have breakfast with Turner. Of course the eggs and the toast were still there three hours later, when she went in to get the plate.

"So eggs on toast is too plain for your fine taste or what?" She spat and took the plate. "Well you don't get anything else, you ungrateful wanker." With that, she stormed out of the room and didn't so much as enter it again until after noon.

Turner had just been put down for his midday nap when Sally got a call from Molly, who was swamped with autopsies and therefore couldn't bring them Sherlock´s medicine. She had pleaded with Sally, so the latter decided to get the medicine herself, just to make sure there would be no infection. This might have been because she still felt a little guilty for her role in his suicide, but she didn't care. Barts was only a 10 minutes drive away anyway, and she could make it in about 40 minutes when she was quick.

She had about 1 hour before Turner would wake up again, and even though she didn't like leaving the little one alone with the freak, she had no choice, had she?

So she told Sherlock where she was going and only received a grumble in return, as he was deeply immersed in whatever he was doing with her laptop. For a second she considered shouting at him, but then realized it just would be a waste of time.

The drive to Barts was uneventful, which made Sally take a long deep breath after all the chaos. Thanks for the small mercies at least.

Molly was just as swamped as she had said. Apparently there had been a fire in an elderly persons' home and she had to identify the remains of six dead people who had burned to death. She said Greg was already investigating it with the Yard, but so far it looked like there hadn't been any real foul play, just a wiring problem. Still, she was smiling at Sally, when she came in.

"Thanks for coming." Taking out a small box she handed Sally Sherlock´s medicine. "These are the antibiotics. There are only three tablets. He has to take one every day. Oh, and I have something else." Vanishing in the back she came back with a small solution to be given IV. "Its iron, and I know he will not like it, but maybe you can give it to him anyway? He has lost a lot of blood and his nutrition is atrocious. Tell him it will only take 20 minutes. He knows how it works so he can direct you or do it himself, but please make sure he does take it."

Sally just stared at the solution, already certain that there was no way Sherlock would hold still long enough for this, but Molly didn't seem to notice her incredulity. Or maybe she didn't want to. "Oh and if you can make him eat something with the tablets it would be even better. They don't go well on empty stomachs."

That was the final straw which made Sally snort. "I doubt it. I made him eggs this morning but they weren't good enough for his highness. Probably thought I was going to poison him or something." She sighed and rubbed her forehead to prevent the oncoming headache. Why the hell had she agreed to this again?

Molly rolled her eyes and nodded. "Nah, don't think it was that Sally, really. That's normal. He just doesn't eat much. Doesn't like to. But really… you know he trusts you, right?"

That surprised Sally. Sherlock trusted her? What the hell?

Molly seemed to read her doubts." Yes, I was surprised as well, to be honest. Sorry. But you two weren't…" Sally waved it away and Molly went on. "He didn't say why, but he does. When he was hurt and when we couldn't go back to my flat because of the damn guy who had been watching it lately…" She spat the last words, clearly annoyed but then caught herself again. "After I couldn't reach Mycroft and I asked him where else I could take him and be sure it was safe, it was your name which came up first. He would never accept help from you, if he didn't trust you, you know that right?"

It surprised Sally, but Molly´s reasoning made sense. And she guessed Sherlock really trusted her somewhat by coming to her.

This didn't make it any less shocking. The freak trusting her? Was this the apocalypse or something?

Ah well, there weren't many people he could ask anyway, she told herself. It wasn't like they were friends now.

Another ten minutes and countless instructions from Molly later, she was driving back to her flat again. Complete with a new extra-special first aid kit in case someone needed to be stitched up again in her flat. Not that Sally didn't appreciate Molly´s thinking but she hoped it would never come to that.

Then again she thought about her job and simply sighed. Okay, it probably would come in handy some day.

When she came back she was in for a shock: the couch in the living room where Turner had been sleeping was empty. Frantically searching, she found the little boy asleep next to the freak of all places. Turner was peacefully sleeping cuddled at Sherlock`s side, while the consulting detective was reading yesterday´s newspaper which Sally had left on the floor next to her bed.

"Nightmare." The freak whispered, and he surprised her even more, when he carefully wiggled out from under Turner without waking him.

In the living room, Sally told Sherlock everything Molly had said. He grimly accepted the antibiotics and even took one tablet with a bit of water, but only scrunched his face at the IV solution. Sally nearly laughed, because she had known he would react that way. Somehow he could really behave like a small boy sometimes.

"Well it's not my health going down the drain, freak." She added and put the IV solution on the shelf, where it was out of Turner´s reach. Maybe she´d try again later. Settling down onto the other end of the couch from where Sherlock sat, she watched the man for a few seconds. "Do you want to eat something now? Molly said the tablets are hard on the stomach."

The freak just shook his head.

Sally fought the urge to smack him. She sighed instead. "She´s right you know? If you had more fat on your bones the shot wouldn't have nearly grazed your liver. But you are close to anorexic. You´ll probably just collapse into the arms of your next adversary and he can sell you straight to Gunther von Hagens."

That seem to work because it elicited a "Toast." from Sherlock. Sally grinned. After trying to ask if he wanted something on or with it, and getting no answer, she just went into the kitchen and made one plain slice of toast.

And this time she would make him eat it. There would be no collapsing freak in her household, damn it. That would only result in him staying longer, and she wanted to avoid that.

When she came back into the living room, something made her stop at the door. A still sleepy Turner was just scrambling into Sherlock´s lap as if this was the most normal thing in the world. She knew he could be extra clingy after he had nightmares, but seeing him interact with the freak that way…

Sherlock though didn't seem to mind. He let the little boy climb into his lap and cuddle up to him and answered his question if Auntie Sally was back yet with a "yes". The consulting detective was ruffling the small boy´s hair, which seemed to calm him down. Sally smiled and found that there really were sides to Sherlock that were unexpected, but which she was beginning to like now.

It was really a sign of the apocalypse, she thought.

#

Three hours later Turner was again with his mother, just a floor down to them. Sherlock had told the little boy that his being there was their secret, and that he shouldn't tell her mother, but Sally didn't even care. After Sherlock´s outing, the whole Met had quickly known about her and Anderson, and there had been some mean gossip about them. But she had gotten over it, and she and Anderson had split up quickly thereafter. So what would it mean now if her neighbour thought she was seeing a tall, ginger haired man? She´d probably ask about it, being the gossip that she was, and Sally vowed to make up extra racy details with which she could annoy Sherlock in the future.

And as long as Jeanette didn't actually see Sherlock they would be fine. She could make up as much as she wanted to about the freak.

Speaking about the man, Sherlock was lying on the sofa now, typing furiously into the computer when Sally waved the IV solution in front of his face.

"You look as white as a sheet. I´d say this, and then bed."

Sherlock grumbled and actually got up after she poked him in the shoulder teasingly a few times. Probably just to show that he was still all right and could dance through the flat, thank you very much. But as it was, he nearly keeled into her arms.

Not even saying anything, Sally helped him back into her bed. There she even managed to put in the IV with Sherlock´s help. It had been scary searching for the vein but Sherlock had told her when she found the right place. Now the IV solution was hanging at the shelf not far from the bed and Sherlock was actually somewhat calm and silent, staring at the ceiling.

Therefore it surprised her when he suddenly looked at her and spoke. "I want to thank you for helping me, Sally. I know we haven't always had the best times .."

Sally just waved it away. Did he really think she would send someone away when he was bleeding on her doorstep?

"I believe I have something to make it worthwhile. My brother contacted me this afternoon and he found a file on a certain Sergej Sminkanov, I believe you know this man?"

That stopped Sally in her tracks. It was the name she somehow hoped never, but also wished, to hear again. She had no idea how Sherlock knew the identity of her rapist, but he´d probably deduced it from her hair or something.

The consulting detective was watching her carefully. "No you´re wrong. Mycroft said he found a record of you telling a policeman what he did to you. It was never investigated though."

That Sally remembered all too well. She had watched a TV show as a kid, where people had said, that if someone was hurting you, you should go to the police. She wasn't allowed to tell her mum, as Sergej had threatened to kill her, but maybe the people in the TV were right? The constable she had talked to first had been nice and seemed to believe her, but it turned out that his boss, was a friend of Sergej, and that the boss had warned the bastard.

That had earned her the beating of a lifetime from Sergej. And re-emphasized the fact that Sergej had implanted in her when she was seven years old: that there was nothing wrong with what he was doing to her. She didn't deserve any better. Because if she did, the man would have helped her, right?

Sally had not talked to anyone about the abuse after that.

Until her friend Sarah. And she had been the only one. The only who had managed to get Sally out of her depression and suicidal ideation at that time. They only who had cared at all. She was the reason that she was still here.

But sadly she was gone now as well.

Sherlock was still looking at her when she had managed to calm herself down a bit.

"Thanks." She managed to press out and refrained from shuddering at the memories. Why the hell was this affecting her that hard, even after all these years?

Well if Sherlock was right, there might be a chance of closing this chapter for once and for all.

"Don´t worry, my brother will help you. Nobody deserves anything like that Sally." Sherlock spoke, tentatively, and Sally caught herself thinking that maybe the freak really cared. Strangely, it only surprised her partly, although she didn't know why. She turned to look at him fully, and he appeared really exhausted, but there was already some colour returning to his face. The iron infusion sure was doing him good. Molly had said, that one infusion would save him from getting anaemic. At least for some time. Yet he still seemed small, all "Un-Sherlocky".

It was probably this which made her ruffle his hair gently. To her surprise Sherlock didn't bat her hand away or anyhing like that. No, he actually he seemed to like it, and a tiny smile was forming on his lips as she continued to ruffle through the now ginger locks. Had anyone seen them, he or she probably would have thought that they were friends or siblings, taking care of each other, as one of them was sick.

And maybe they could have been, but after about two minutes, Sally came to her senses again. What the hell was she doing with the freak? Helping him was one thing but this? Jumping up from the bed she brought some distance between them because it was better that way.

She knew he couldn't be trusted, damn it!

Sherlock just smirked and Sally groaned. Of course the freak would find her sentiment actually funny. He had said often enough that he didn't care for people. That it wasn't worth his time.

"Did your brother say something about picking you up?" she managed, and the freak grinned even more.

"Already tired of me, Sally?" he teased and Sally showed him the finger. "Mycroft has given me a meeting point where you have to take me tomorrow. He´ll be there himself to give you the file"

Sally rolled her eyes. "Freak, I´m not a taxi." She groaned but the consulting detective just shrugged.

"Irrelevant, as I hardly can take one. If you are lucky it might only take the morning and you´ll be back here in the afternoon."

Sally glared at him. Damn the freak. It was all just fun for him.

"Come on, Mycroft said he can´t send anyone, as they are all tied up on important business- hence he is coming himself to get me. Must be a damn inconvenience for him." The consulting detective giggled slightly at that, making Sally shake her head. What was this? A squabble between siblings?

"Listen. You`ll get your chance at justice. You helped me in getting mine, so it's only fair. When Mycroft has a whole file on that guy, he´ll know essential things, and I know that this man is the reason why you entered the police. To bring him down..."

Sally had enough. "Yeah shut up. I´ll drive you, ok?" Taking out the needle of the IV line a bit more harshly than intended, she put a small plaster on Sherlock´s arm and took the empty IV bag to bring it to the trash.

The rest of the day, Sherlock typed furiously at the laptop again, while Sally tried to process the information. At night she lay awake and imagined what she could do to the damn asshole who destroyed her childhood. She would get him into prison, that was for sure.


	6. Chapter 6

Yep. This week you get two chapters and this one might even explain something about Sherlock. Thanks again to my wonderful beta sevenpercent.

Also thanks for the reviews so far, I`m glad there are a few people who like this Story.

**Chapter 6**

The next morning found Sally trying to smuggle Sherlock into the lift and from there onto the car park. She wrapped the consulting detective into a large blanket, made sure nobody saw them in the hallway, and then got the car while Sherlock was hiding in a corner. She took down the back so that Sherlock could crawl into the boot over the back-seat. He settled there and they put one part of the back-seat up again. The second was left halfway down so that Sherlock could see where they were going, and so that he could talk to Sally.

All pretty easily, really. Sherlock thought that they weren't watching Sally anyway, but one could never be too sure. Therefore, he would ride in the boot.

Also, it would make it less of a problem if a colleague or another officer saw Sally driving through town. A dead man on her passenger seat might have been hard to explain.

After driving around for about half an hour, Sally found herself in a small house, which looked like a family home in a suburb in London. She had been a bit surprised Sherlock had directed her there, straight into the open garage, because it looked like typical family home, complete with a swing set in the garden. That changed once she was inside, especially as she followed the freak and entered the cellar. When she had expected, two, maybe, three small rooms, the cellar was much bigger, probably bigger and with more rooms than all the other houses on the street combined.

Carefully watching to see if Sherlock needed some help moving around, which of course he denied when asked, she took in her surroundings. So far they had encountered three dark clothed men with pins in their ears- bodyguards probably- who had pointed them along the long corridor of the cellar. The corridor seemed to have thousands of doors on each side, but Sally guessed that these weren't the right room, as Sherlock kept walking. She wanted to comment as she saw him wince from walking the long distance, but of course he beat her to it.

"Don't you say anything." he grumbled. "Let's get to my brother and then we are cool, right? You'll get the file, don't worry. But I hope you understand, you can't tell anyone about me."

Sally grimaced. Of course he would go back to being a total ass again, she could already see the signs. "So eager to get rid of me, are we?" She teased and Sherlock glared at her.

"I assure you that it's unwise to be seen with me. If anyone in Moriarty´s network gets the idea…"

Sally huffed. "Yeah, I can take care of my self, thank you." Which earned her another glare from Sherlock, and surprised her a bit. Oi, do we actually care Mr. Consulting Detective, she thought, but didn't get to tease him with it as suddenly an open door on the left came in sight, and Sherlock walked right through it.

Mycroft was already there when they entered, sitting at a table in one of the three chairs, with a mobile phone at his ear. Sally had only seen him a handful of times, mostly from afar, and met him once briefly. He nodded at them while speaking, and then mouthed something like "Palace" while he listened to the other side. Sherlock immediately grumbled about that, while Sally stopped at the door, a bit unsure what she should do. She knew from Lestrade that Sherlock´s brother had some government position. What exactly it was, the detective didn't know, but after seeing some of the resources on a case once, they guessed he was someone pretty high in the MI6 or something like it. Which probably meant he could have her job if he wanted to or whatever else he wanted…

She shook herself. No, she wouldn't be afraid. He couldn't be worse than Sherlock. And he had agreed to give her the file, right?

Sally took a deep breath and walked into the room. When she got closer, Mycroft put a hand over the speaker for a second. "The file is there on the table. I´ll be right there. Some small crisis at the Palace again!" He rolled his eyes and went back to speaking once more.

Sally nodded, while Sherlock had already walked over to the table to take the file. As he grabbed it, something fell out of it and he bent and picked it up.

Later Sally would remember the next moments like some kind of film. Something which you had watched from the outside, but which you hadn't been a part of.

But of course she had been.

Sherlock had picked up, what turned out to be a photo, from the floor. While striding over to her, he looked at it and stopped. Before Sally could even say or do anything, he went deadly white, dropped the file, and ran out of the room.

Feeling deeply unsettled, she went over to the paper binder and picked it and the photo close to it, up. Upon further inspection, it was a photo of Sergej, her rapist, and from the looks of it, it, had been taken pretty close to the time when she had been abused.

Only now did she realize that Mycroft still was in the room, and since Sherlock had run out, it had been eerily silent. As she turned towards Mycroft, she saw that he was ghostly pale as well, leaning on the table for support. The phone had been discarded onto the floor, and that was what finally cemented her notion: something was deeply wrong here.

"Mr. Holmes? What..?" She started and wasn't sure how to continue. Would he trust her enough to tell her what was up with Sherlock? "What just happened?" She tried.

Luckily Mycroft Holmes answered her, which was probably due to the fact that he was really out of it, and not thinking clearly. "I believe you are not they only who has a score to settle with Sergej." He looked like he wanted to dash from the room, but standing didn't seem to work, as his knees buckled and he reached for the table again.

Sally was at his side in an instant. "Holmes! Talk to me! What has your brother spooked like that!" She had completely forgotten about etiquette now. If he would get her fired for that, she didn't care.

Mycroft though looked utterly destroyed, but he spoke after a few seconds. "When Sherlock was seven, he was alone at home with our father, who was an agent as well. One day someone entered our house. They raped Sherlock in front of our father and they killed our father after it, while Sherlock was forced to watch."

Sally could feel bile rising in her throat. "Sergej." She whispered and Mycroft nodded. "But how?" She managed. How could they not have known?

"Sherlock never talked about it, and the few camera tapes we had back then were useless. They were good with covering their tracks. We found 3 of the men who worked for him, but they killed themselves or died before we got to them. We never knew the name of the leader, nor were we sure of his nationality."

Sally was shaking as well now. Anger, fear, desperation. Realization as to why Sherlock was Sherlock rushed into her head. The whole event had taken maybe two minutes but had completely thrown her and the Holmes brothers' world into turmoil.

Making Mycroft sit on the table, she handed him the file and nodded at him, before running out of the room. "I´m going to find your brother."

#

What made her dash into the bathroom four doors down might have been sixth sense or maybe just luck, but at least she found him. Sherlock was in one of the stalls, door open, all but hanging over the toilet. He was still ghostly white and trembling like a leaf, and the smell of vomit assaulted her senses as she entered the stall. Pressing the flush first, as that smell always made her want to hurl and she was damn close to that already- thank you very much, she knelt down next to Sherlock and tried to talk to him.

"Hey.. Sherlock" She tried but he didn't seem to be able to hear her.

"Sherlock? It´s me, Sally." A bit louder, but to no avail.

Remembering what had helped her back then, when she had been having flashbacks, she decided to try the same approach but wasn't sure if it would work. Slowly she edged closer to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, listen to me, it's Sally, you remember me right? It's all right, he is not here anymore.. you are safe!" she rambled and began slowly stroking his back and arms, while Sherlock was still trembling and completely lost in his nightmarish world. "Sherlock it's ok. Try to feel my hands ok, smell me… "She bit back a smile at that. "I know this is weird, but this is Sally and not Sergej." Knowing that the Consulting Detective probably had a whole file in his head about her at least he had claimed that once, she just guessed he had an idea how she smelled. It was weird, yes, but the more senses he could use, the better. That was what Sarah had said.

Sarah had been her best friend, whom she met when the repressed memories of the abuse had become bad again. She had been 5 years older, and been abused herself and she had been the one to save Sally. One thing Sarah had done had been to hold her to get her out of the flashbacks and that was what she was trying to do for Sherlock now.

And so she mumbled things like "It's okay Sherlock, you are safe. You are here with me." or "He can't hurt you anymore!" while rubbing his back, stroking his head and so on. And gradually she could feel him tremble less, getting his senses back, coming back to the present.

She retreated a bit the more when he came to, not sure if he wanted her to touch him, and so she only had her hand on his shoulder when he finally looked at her with clear eyes again.

"I`m sorry you had to witness this." He blurted and tried to get up while Sally just snorted and made him sit down again, before his knees could buckle.

"Not for this. Never for this Sherlock. Listen, you know that I know what this man can do, right? So if something like this happens, it's not a sign of weakness. We survived."

Of course he saw it differently, she could see it in his eyes but for there was something else which got his attention. "So, Mycroft?" he asked.

"Yes. But don't get angry at him. He´s shocked as well."

It was Sherlock who snorted now and Sally tried to look him in the eye.

"Promise that you will get someone to talk to about it, will you? It will help. I will listen if you want me to, but if you don't want to talk about it to me I understand. But please find someone!"

Half way through the sentence he had managed to drag himself up. He didn't answer anything and just walked over to one of the basins, opened the faucet and splashed some water on his face and rinsed his mouth out.

Sally sighed. He wouldn't talk. At least not for now. But she would watch him. She owed that to Sarah, to Sherlock and to Sergej.

She would not let him win.

#

A few hours later Sally found herself in some kind of living room which was also part of the cellar. Sherlock seemed to have calmed down somewhat, if you could call it that, as he was now snapping at everyone who tried to talk to him.

Trying to get him something to eat had been useless, as he assured her that he didn't eat while on a case, and Sally had grumbled at him. She could understand it, of course, since she still felt quite sick, but as he had hardly eaten at her flat, he must be starved. He certainly looked like it. Never mind the fact, that he was still hurt.

But of course the freak wouldn't listen. Damn him.

At least she had gotten the damn antibiotic in him, though he probably just took it to make her shut up.

His brother looked pale as well, and had been barking orders into his mobile phone once again for a while now. She knew that he was trying to find out about Sergej Malkow´s – that was his real name- whereabouts, and she tried not to disturb him anymore, after she had made it clear that she wasn't about to go anywhere. Which of course had lead to a big discussion.

"No, I am not going anywhere. I have been after him all my life and now I can get him. It's not just your fight!" she had pointed out and warned them that she would go to John and tell him all about Sherlock. Of course it was a low blow, but she wanted to be in on this. It was her right, damn it.

Mycroft hadn't been amused. "You know that I could have locked you up in an instant?" he said, but that didn't get her to stand down.

"So what? I would try and get out and then I would go after him. It's not like you can make me disappear right? You´d have to let me out some time or Lestrade and the MET would get suspicious. Damn it, I´m not some damsel in distress, I can be an ally to you. And I bet I know more about his habits than you, as I lived with him for 5 months."

Mycroft had looked at Sherlock who just shrugged. "Ah once again you aren´t saying anything, brother?" he grumbled.

Sherlock´s answer surprised her. "It´s not my place." And with that he had walked out of the room again, probably to go and pace up and down the long corridor, which apparently helped him think.

But that had been what had gotten Mycroft to agree. "Okay. But I promise, if you make problems I will look you up myself."

Sally nodded. She had gotten what she wanted. "Listen, you don't need to worry. I have been working as a police woman for over 10 years now. And I won't tell John. Hell, you probably know that anyway, you are as observant as Sherlock, aren't you? I´d never risk John´s life like that."

Mycroft seemed to be okay with it and went back to ordering his men around again, leaving Sally to her thoughts, and she finally realized the depth of the situation. She had always known that Sergej had been an asshole. Hell, he had abused her for 5 months and destroyed her whole childhood without blinking an eye. But now, knowing what he did to Sherlock and essentially to Mycroft as well?!

She had never wished someone death or pain or anything like that. Justice? Yes. For them to be locked up in prison where they´d belong? Sure. But death? She wasn't that kind of person. Yes she seemed harsh on the outside and sometimes said harsh things, but she never wished anyone ill for real. But Sergej was different. Not only had he destroyed her life, he had destroyed Sherlock´s as well.

She scared herself a little with that, but she would make sure he would pay for it. And she´d make sure it would hurt, damn it!

#

She hadn't done much in the next few hours. After calling Lestrade, telling him her Aunt was sick and that she needed to drive her to a special clinic in the country, she mainly sat around and did some internet research for places and companies that Mycroft or his people had dug up. But that hadn't led anywhere yet. Sherlock had done the same on another laptop, and from time to time he got up to walk around the complex, while she would fight to not get lost in the memories that came up once again.

Sherlock would then enter the room again and either start typing on his laptop furiously, or he´d go and shout at Mycroft to be faster and to not be useless. They would fight until one of them would run out again, leaving a few moments of unsteady peace in the room.

It really seemed like common sense had left the building. If they went on like this they´d probably go bonkers, Sally assumed.

But what could she do?

Only ten minutes later Sally watched once again as Sherlock left the room grumbling, but not before throwing another insult at his brother. But this time she looked closer, and Mycroft didn't seem to be bothered by it. In fact he looked like he even…

Sally didn't need to be a genius consulting detective to finally understand.

"You don't mind. You think it's all your fault." She uttered, shaking her head, making Mycroft look at her pointedly.

"Well, to be fair he has every reason to resent me. I wanted to go to the amusement park that day. If I hadn´t indulged in that childish behaviour…"

"Ah and otherwise you´d have turned into superman and…"She raised her eyebrow at him challengingly. Surely he couldn't believe…

He interrupted before she could talk further, face stoic once again. Damn him and his carefully composed expression. "Miss Donovan, I knew that my father was working on a secret mission. Of course I didn't know then exactly what he was doing, but I was old enough to understand the ramifications, as I had been alerted to the necessary security concerns. So it was because of me that Sherlock was left alone with the housekeeper, as he didn't want to come with us that day. And although I had no idea that my father might return that day for a surprise visit, I shouldn't have let it come to that."

Sally fought the urge to roll her eyes, because she knew it wouldn't help. "But if you had been there what would have been different? You were only…"

Mycroft sighed. "It's not so much that I would have been there. My mother was a fully trained agent as well; she would have been able to do something. They would take turns, watching us when we weren't at school, while the other one was on a mission. You must see, I grew up with that. I knew how important their work was. She remained with the service until recently, but after that happened, of course, she didn't go out on missions anymore, as there was no one to watch us and she didn't want us to be orphans. But that doesn't change the fact: If I hadn´t been obsessed with the stupid park that day, it probably wouldn't have happened. Or at least it would have gone smoother, so to speak. I effectively managed to not only kill my father, but also steal my brother´s childhood that day. So it's understandable if he hates me because of it."

Oh bollocks.

"And it's easier for you because you think he won't mind you dying as well then, right? Because you do care, even if you say otherwise." Mycroft looked a tiny bit surprised at what should have given Sally a small triumph, but instead made the bile rise up in her throat.

Damn all this. Damn fucked up world.

"After what happened, Sherlock didn't speak at all. He didn't utter one word for over one year. He was a traumatized child and there was nothing we could do to change it. So yes, I´m not sorry if he hates me. He did care entirely too much back then, and I needed to make sure he wouldn't loose himself like that ever again. As for me, I have to complete my mission and make sure I get back at this man. If I die doing that, it's irrelevant. After all, it's all I can do to atone for my mistake."

That explained a lot. Sally was still shaking her head slightly, all but gaping at Mycroft. It all made sense now. Sherlock's weirdness. His attempt to never show, or if he showed them, to have strange, abnormal feelings, like being happy at a crime scene. It was probably just a way to make sure he wouldn't care. Same with the insults. All these things to maintain the façade which Mycroft had chosen for him.

And of course Mycroft had chosen the same for himself.

She knew from Sherlock that his brother had not been very old back then. What had Sherlock said in an insult a few minutes ago? Mycroft had just turned 13 the week before? In fact hadn't the trip to park been a birthday gift?

She guessed that Mycroft could deduce her thoughts, but he didn't comment on them. With an "I believe that will be all for now, Miss Donovan." He was out of the room, before she could even form a syllable.

Damn these stupid Holmes men and their feelings and their bloody attempts at hiding them.

Sally couldn't help herself, but she stared after him, at the now empty door. To her, there hadn't been just one traumatized child.

There had been two.

Hell, three if you counted her in that equation.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

It had taken Mycroft`s people 2 days to pinpoint Sergej's location. Donovan was actually impressed, though she probably shouldn't have expected anything else. Sherlock had seemed more jumpy and more annoying than usual, although she couldn't be a hundred percent sure about that. Before their meeting in the docks, she had usually only seen him for a few hours a day. But as the hours went on he became more and more agitated, which was probably due the fact that he hadn't slept at all. This was one of those things which he apparently didn't do while on case, but Donovan doubted it was that easy this time. Not when she herself had barely managed 2 hours sleep, before waking up to a nightmare again.

She had tried three times after that, but then given up sleeping. Now she was in the living room again, coaxing Sherlock to eat. She had gotten one piece of Pizza into him yesterday after 2 hours of constant nagging, but that had been it. Apparently to Mycroft that was normal behaviour and she remembered John saying something like that while on a case, but she refused to let it go. The bloody idiot was still hurt, damn it. Was he really expecting to fight like this against Sergej?

After the two hours she finally decided to give up. She wasn't supposed to care anyway, and if the freak thought, eating once a case was enough, then so be it. She had told him she wouldn't carry him out if he collapsed.

Of course she had offered to talk to him about his memories again, especially when he suddenly jumped up, nearly panicking, obviously remembering, but he had refused to speak about it.

She remembered how she had been back then at 13 years old, when her oh-so-carefully suppressed memories had resurfaced. She had nearly gone mad, and it had been pure luck that Sarah had been in the youth center that day, when she had a particularly bad flashback. Later, as she learned more and more about victims of sexual abuse in the police, she came to learn that suppressing the memories would only work for so long, until they refused to be suppressed any longer. Then they´d appear all of the sudden, triggered by some minor event, and often leave the victim feeling totally lost in the memories.

She could understand that Sherlock didn't want to talk, but keeping it in and not working through it could become really dangerous for him. Not to mention what would happen if he saw Sergej again. Hell, she herself was afraid she would be paralysed with fear, and she had worked through this shit for quite some time already.

But she couldn't force him to talk. Hell, he probably hated her after all that happened anyway, so why should he talk to her?

All the while Mycroft had become even more withdrawn, only occasionally exchanging a few words with them. The older brother was constantly on his phones- yes more than one, which were feverously recharged and provided by his assistant Anthea. But at least he ate. Not much. Sleep seemed to be a problem as well though, but she knew at least he had tried.

But all in all the atmosphere was nuts, and so she was glad when Mycroft announced that he knew where Sergej was. Immediately the three of them, Anthea, and some of Mycroft´s men all flew over to some secluded part of Russia. They landed on a small military base. She had no idea how Mycroft was allowed to use it, and she didn't want to ask. Then they drove for about three more hours into the country.

They stopped at a small hotel where Mycroft got his men ready and ordered Sally and Sherlock to sleep and eat, so that they would have their strength for the next day. He even offered them a sedative to help her sleep but Sally declined, certain to sleep because she had been dead on her two feet anyway.

And she was right, she had slept for about three hours, before a nightmare had woken her again, and then as she tried once more, she managed another four. Feeling much better already, she decided to get up. Dawn was just peeking through the windows and her small clock at the bedside told her that it would be 5 soon. Since they agreed to meet up at seven for breakfast, there wouldn't have been much time for sleep anyway. It took her about twenty minutes to get dressed and washed up, and after that she decided to get some fresh air before breakfast. Hopefully that would calm her down somewhat.

In front of her door was one of Mycroft´s men. She nodded at him, feeling a bit sorry for him, as he didn't get much sleep; he said he didn't mind. He seemed to be happy to be able to help Mycroft, and in general the men seemed to think highly of him. This had calmed her down a bit as well, since she now knew that Sergej had been an agent sent from the Russians back then to kill Sherlock´s and Mycroft´s parents.

Mycroft had traced back Sergej´s movements through old MI 6 protocol´s and they knew now that he had worked for the KGB in the eighties. Sherlock's father had completed a mission only a few months prior to that, in Russia, which had annoyed the Russians a lot and which probably had ignited the spark for all this. They thought Sergej probably had gotten the order to liquidate Mr. and Mrs. Holmes from the highest men of the country- further investigations were still going on, but the involvement and most of Sergej´s reasons were clear as a day.

Sad thing was, she had just been collateral damage. Sergej had apparently chatted up her mum as a cover and then used her just because he had wanted to.

The only connection seemed to be Mrs. Tumbleton, Sally´s neighbour. She had been an old friend of the Holmses´ grandmother. They assumed that Sergej had followed her one day as Mrs. Holmes went to visit Mrs. Tubbleton and noticed Sally´s mum, who, desperate for some company after another break up, had flirted with him. Add to that, Sally´s apartment was just two streets from his Russian contact at the police station (the man who had so nicely ignored Sally´s desperate plea for help and told Sergej instead) and about two kilometres from the Holmes home- it had been the perfect for him, they supposed.

Hidden in plain sight.

Everyone who´d have seen him would have suspected he was trying to get a permit to stay in the country by marrying Sally´s mum.

And Sally´s torment had just been added bonus.

It made her sad, but she just wasn't as important as the Holmes family.

What she had gotten from the file on Sergej though, was that he was known as a highly intelligent and cruel man. He seemed to instinctively know where to hurt his opponent the worst, being trained for it and apparently having a natural talent, and he used his knowledge with glee.

And he enjoyed hurting people.

A lot.

A true psychopath, she thought with a shudder and willed herself to stop thinking about his other deeds she had read about in the file.

She alerted Mycroft's man that she would go outside to sit on the bench in the garden for a while. He nodded and said he would go out as well, after a trip to the gents. She was a bit uncomfortable with being watched the whole time, but she knew Mycroft was just being thorough, so she didn't say anything.

The garden was quite cold, but she didn't really notice it that much. The world seemed really peaceful in this small village, and if she hadn't known that Sergej had his holiday house not too far from here, she might have come to like it. Breathing the cool air, she tried to relax. Just a few hours and they would fight and give Sergej what he deserved.

And she knew they could do it.

It was then that she was alerted to someone coming out of the house. Still sitting on the bench in half shadow of the big bushes next to her, she wanted to call her bodyguard over to make it easier for him, but stopped: In the shadow of the street lantern wasn't the man, who was supposed to watch her. It was Sherlock, completely alone, dark clothed and obviously trying to go after Sergej without them.

"Damn it freak!" was all she could think when she followed him at a safe distance. What was the idiot doing, trying to do this alone?

#

Of course she had been right. After following Sherlock through the forest for about 15 minutes, she could already see Sergej´s house. Mycroft´s men had scouted the area before and brought several photos with them, so at least she had an idea where she was, as it was slowly dawning.

She had lost Sherlock in the last few meters though, damn it. Why was the freak that fast? Cursing him, she tried to look for him as quietly as possible, as she suddenly heard someone shouting not too far from her. Instantly she ducked and went very still. Had Sherlock discovered that she had followed him? No that couldn't be it. He wouldn't shout this close to the house. But who?

She contemplated immediately running back to the hotel for a few seconds, but decided against it. There was no way she could run through the thick forest without alerting anyone close by. Damn it, why hadn't she informed Mycroft or his men before going after Sherlock? Going after him alone had been insanely stupid, now that she thought about it. She was nearly as dumb as the freak.

But maybe, if the man who was supposed to watch her had seen that she wasn't in the garden…

She didn't even get to end that thought. She suddenly felt something pressed at her right temple and heard the well known "click" of a gun. Trying to breathe and remain calm, she looked at her attacker, only to get the shock of her lifetime.

There, just right next to her was Sergej. He was older now, apparent by a few more defined lines on his face and by the greying hair. But essentially he looked exactly the same as he did all those years ago. And he had the same disgusting smile as he looked down on her.

"Now, if this isn´t the useless little shit." He sneered. "What a nice surprise."

She saw him swing the arm with gun a nanosecond later, and then everything went black.

#

When Sally came to, her head was pounding like someone had danced a polka on it. It took a few minutes until she could see clearly, but she immediately realized that she was in a cellar. Her hands hurt and she couldn't move them and she found herself cuffed to some thick pipes going along the wall. Looking around she saw that the room was mostly empty, except for her, a small metal table and a small iron locker in the far corner.

And Sherlock.

Chained to the other wall, opposite her.

The consulting detective was staring daggers at her and when looks could have killed she surely would have been dead, but he didn't say anything. It didn't take much to guess what he was thinking though.

"It´s not like I could have let you go alone!" She grumbled at him, but he kept staring. She sighed and made sure she whispered the next sentence, as she wouldn't give Sergej the satisfaction of seeing them fight. " It's not like you are any better, you are here as well."

Still nothing.

"Look if the guy in front of my door notices.. what I mean is…"

That finally brought a response. "If I hadn't knocked my guard out with a sedative and looked yours in the bathroom, maybe."

She groaned. "How did you get a seda… oh, never mind. Guess we need to buy time, they are bound to notice.."

She didn't get any further as suddenly the thick iron door of the room gave a squeaky groan. In strode Sergej, with three of his men. While Sally stiffened, Sherlock barely seemed to react. Sally tried to take this as a good thing. At least neither of them had frozen in front of the Sergej.

"So to what do I owe this visit?" Sergej teased and walked over to Sherlock first. Sherlock didn't say anything, he just glared daggers at the man. Sergej just shrugged and walked over to Sally. "Maybe you have anything to say?"

As Sally didn't reply either and tried to ignore him as best as she could. He sighed theatrically and went over to the small locker in the corner of the room. "Never mind if you don't want to talk. Its far more fun to make you talk anyway."

The small doors of the iron locker groaned when he opened them, and even though Sally had already feared that nothing good could be in there, she really felt sick as she caught the sight of various knifes, whips and other torture devices.

Instructed by a simple small nod from Sergej, two of the bully men now decuffed a struggling and cursing Sherlock from the wall and led him over to the table and made him lie on it, while the third cuffed his hands and feet to one of the four table legs. Upon further inspection, Sally realised, that this room probably had been a torture chamber all along. The table with the bondings already installed the locker, the scrubbed floor with a drain in the middle: it probably wasn't the first time that this room was used for this purpose.

She shuddered and tried to regain walked over to the bound Sherlock, who was testing the cuffs, but to avail.

"So you still don't want to talk?" Sergej asked, tracing the knife, which he had gotten from the locker, over Sherlock´s back. First it seemed like he was doing no harm, but then all of the sudden, he applied pressure, which drew a hiss from Sherlock.

"Leave him alone!" It was only a second later that Sally realized that it had actually been her voice, but she didn't care. Trying to get out of the cuffs again, she tried to get over to them but it didn't work, as the cuffs were simply too strong.

Sergej just laughed. "Cute. Are you lovers or something? God, the irony. I heard that you were a complicated freak, but never thought you´d fuck shit like her." He turned to look at her, smiling like a kid in a candyshop. "Then again, she was always hot for my cock wasn't she?" Striding over to her, he took the knife to her neck, making her draw away. "Of course I can give you what you want!"

Sally was trembling in earnest now, she couldn't help it. Panic rose as Sergej took the knife to her shirt and started to cut it off. Behind them they could hear a strange groaning sound, as Sherlock literally tried to take the table of its hinges. But it was no use, it didn't budge. So Sherlock started to deduce Sergej. "Leave her alone will you? You do this only because you can't get it up with your wife at home, can you? Which is no surprise because you liked it better when your uncle fucked you."

Before Sally could do as much blink, Sergej had shot over to Sherlock and kicked into his side. Sherlock hissed again, before teasing Sergej once more. "Yeah like I guessed. You can't get it up in a normal fashion."

Another kick. A groan from Sherlock, all the while Sally was tearing on the cuffs frantically. This only increased after Sergej´s next sentence.

"You know I can always start with you." With that he started to cut off the clothes off Sherlock, starting with Sherlock´s shirt, then his trousers, the underwear… Sally was close to loosing it. She was screaming insults, tearing at the cuffs like mad, but not even feeling the blood that seeped out of her abused wrists. Sergej was grinning like a mad man. His men were laughing, watching, not even batting an eye.

Sherlock had been trying to evade the knife but it was no use. When Sergej had seen the shot wound he had poked his fingers in it with glee, drawing a scream from Sherlock and a desperate shout from Sally. It was bleeding freshly now, as Sherlock was finally fully naked, trying to refrain from trembling as he didn't want to give Sergej the satisfaction.

Sergej though seemed to be "appreciating" his work. He walked around Sherlock, stroking his back, even wiping away the blood away from where he had nicked the skin, while cutting away the clothes, and came to stand in front of him.

"You know what? I´ll be just doing what I should have done ages ago. First we are going to have some fun, then I´m going to take care of this little black shit there and kill her slowly for you. I know how much you like to watch. And then it's your turn again. We´ll be having fun for days with you two! "

Sherlock just shook his head, trying the bounds again while Sergej just laughed. He moved towards Sherlock´s back again and Sally screamed and raged as loud as she could, trying to draw Sergej's attention to her. Inwardly she prayed that Mycroft and his men would appear soon but didn't really believe in it anymore.

They would come, she knew, but probably when it was too late. It was now fully light outside, but she had no idea how late it was or if it was close to their meeting time. And even if it was time for their meeting, Mycroft's team might wait to form a plan and then come a few hours late as a result. And a few hours was a long time and could to a lot of damage.

She knew that.

Deciding all that she could do was to try to be there for him, she swallowed down the sobs which once again threatened to escape from her throat.

"Sherlock, we´ll get through this, I promise!" She tried and sounded remarkably strong, while Sergej turned into hysterical giggles upon hearing this.

"Oh my god, how cute!" He nearly hiccuped between his laughter, and the other men laughed as well.

Sally tried to ignore this and spoke further. "Sherlock, focus on me, ok? Don't give him the satisfaction!"

More giggles from the men around her, but the consulting detective was watching her now, deep sadness, fear and something indefinable in his eyes.

They heard the noise of Sergej´s zipper after that. Sally asked herself how something like that could be done that loud on purpose, then suddenly all hell broke loose.


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks for the review!

**Chapter 8**

Simultaneously the door was kicked in (Sally, at first, had ho idea how this was done with a steal door, and only learned later, that there were tiny amounts of explosives involved) and the small window in the room was smashed. Just nanoseconds after that, shots sounded in the room and Sergej and the men tried to take cover, but couldn't as there wasn't much furniture in the room to begin with.

Sergej had been hit in the shoulder by a shot from the window. One of his men went down immediately as Sally saw her bodyguard from the hotel shoot him from the open door.

Several men stormed in and, in seconds, apprehended the other two and the injured Sergej. They were followed by Mycroft and Anthea, both also armed. As they saw, that the danger was over, Mycroft and Anthea both put away their guns, and Sally finally allowed herself to breath again. She was trembling like a leaf now, gasping, and it seemed like she was watching everything through some kind of haze. But she knew it would be ok now.

They made it.

Seconds later one of the men appeared in front of her with a bolt cutter and gently cut the cuffs off her, while Anthea tried to make sure her arms weren't hurt any further. The woman also tried to put a loose bandage around her wrists, but Sally wouldn't have it. She was totally fixated on Sherlock, who was cut loose as well now. She crawled over to him while Mycroft was at his side, putting his suit jacket around him. ( Yes everyone else, even Anthea, was wearing battle gear, but he was still in one of his suits damn it!) Another jacket was bound around his nether regions as well, but Sally didn't care if he was naked or not.

The consulting detective was trembling in earnest, not reacting to Mycroft, who seemed to be talking to calm him, and was showing all of the signs of going into shock. So Sally did the only thing she could think of and drew him into her arms. To her surprise, he seemed to be conscious enough to hug her back. He didn't even try to shove her off.

When Mycroft went to his knees beside them, she drew him into the hug as well. As weird as it was, there they were, in that damn torture cellar, in a three-way hug.

Sally had no idea how long it lasted. Maybe it had been a few minutes, maybe longer, but gradually Sherlock´s tremors subsided and he seemed to be more like himself again.

Neither of them said anything the whole time, and now, they slowly got up. Mycroft just nodded and went over to his men, where he started commanding again. Sally just shook her head at the older brother, who seemingly returned to business as usual in an instant. But that had been expected. That he had allowed the hug had been surprising though.

Still a bit dazed, she registered that Anthea had gotten Sherlock some sweatpants and a far too big pullover from somewhere. The woman applied a big gauze to his actively bleeding gun shot wound, and helped him fasten it with a few stripes of tape. Luckily he still had his shoes and socks, the only clothing which had survived Sergej´s onslaught, and they went out of the cellar.

They were led to four vans outside, passing two dead men in front of the house, and Sally could not help but ask herself, how she couldn't have heard the shots, but then decided that she had been distracted with Sergej anyway. She probably would have missed a full-grown earthquake or something like that.

It was weird when she saw how Sergej and his goons were put in two of the four vans. Mycroft got in one them as well, while Anthea took them to the biggest. Inside there was a female doctor waiting for them. Where the hell she had come from? Sally had no idea but found she didn't care. They were looked at and stitched up and given something for the pain, which now seemed to be coming slowly to the surface.

Injury wise they had come off pretty lucky, if you could say that. They both had shallow head wounds from when they had been knocked out, and abrasions from the cuffs. Sally's left wrist had to be stitched up as she had torn it so bad that it nearly had reached the bone. Sherlock´s gun wound had opened up again, but the bleeding had stopped, and he would develop some really dark bruises from the kicks, but luckily nothing seemed to be broken. He also had some minor nicks and abrasions from being thrown around and nicked by the knife, but they were shallow. To be honest, Sally had expected much, much worse. And she was glad that it had gone so smooth.

This time the drive didn't take 3 hours, as they were brought to another small airport, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Miraculously, Mycroft again had a small plane waiting for them and Sally never had been that grateful to the powers of this man.

It was only when they entered the drive way of Holmes Country house, after a 2 hour of flight to and another half an hour drive from London, when Sally realised that she must have had some kind of shock as well, since she remembered the last hours as some kind of blur.

Sherlock had been uncharacteristically silent the whole flight and drive from London and that continued all the way to the house. He skulked away immediately while Anthea had put her blackberry away and showed Sally her room.

"There are some clothes in the cupboard, I hope they fit. You can take a bath in your bathroom if you want to or just relax for a bit. Mycroft has some business to attend to in London but he will be here soon." The woman reassured her and Sally grimaced. Some business was actually Sergej, who would be put into a secure prison or whatever Mycroft saw fit, but Sally found she didn't care. Strangely she trusted Mycroft with this.  
And if he would decide to kill the asshole, so be it. Especially since she knew from the file that they weren't the only ones who had been hurt by him.

Anthea was still standing beside her as Sally looked up again, seemingly concerned. "You know if…" she started. "I know, we don't know each other well, but if you need someone to talk or if I can get someone for you..."

Sally just nodded. "It's okay. I guess a bath would be a good idea first. And then we´ll see."

Anthea smiled. "If you need something, I´m in the lounge, two doors left from here. Mr. Holmes will be back by six at the latest and then we´ll have dinner."

And with that, she was off.

#

It was eerily amazing how much a bath and changing into fresh clothes could make someone feel better. She had allowed herself to soak a bit and when she came out of the bathroom, Sherlock was sitting on her bed, mindlessly looking through some kind of photo journal. He smiled slightly as he saw her and nodded at the bandages on the table.

"Come on, I´ll help you get on fresh ones. Anthea already helped me."

And he was surprisingly gentle, which surprised Sally quite a bit. Sherlock grinned, already guessing her thoughts again. "It pays to have a doctor as a flatmate, obviously."

"Of course." She smiled back. Weirdly it felt good to have him with her. She never thought she would think this but she was glad he was all right. He seemed to have showered or bathed as well, as his hair was still wet and he had exchanged the strange outfit he had gotten from Anthea for a turtleneck and black pants, which actually fit him quite well. If one overlooked the fresh bandages lurking under his sleeves and the occasional hiss when he moved a bit too fast for his shot wound, he didn't even look hurt.

Sally, though, knew differently. If one looked closely and knew where to look, he was more shaken than he ever would admit. Not that she behaved any different, mind you.

"Are you all right?" She asked after he had put on the last bandage, and Sherlock seemed to hesitate for a second.

"Yes and no. But I will be." Admitting that seemed to surprise him as much as her, and he backed away a bit. " I have to focus on Moriarty´s network anyway. No time for getting all mushed up."

Sally rolled her eyes, but he was already getting up. "Come on, Mycroft will be here in 20 minutes, lets get something for dinner before he eats it all."

She snorted at that, but caught his elbow and forced him to stop, which made him look at her. "I´m here to talk, okay? No strings attached." Sherlock nodded and wanted to get moving again, but she wouldn't let him. "Listen, I know all you wanna do is put it away somewhere and forget it, but it's not the way trauma usually works. Hell you know all about flashbacks. You´ve seen PSTD more than once." She sighed. "I just wish you would rest. Do things at a normal pace for once. Just to…"

Sherlock sighed. "I will, after the rest of Moriarty is eliminated. I can't risk their lives like that." Then, a bit more harsh than he probably intended. "I´m okay now, and I have been okay since I was a child, so you don't have to worry about these stupid things."

He looked at her for about a second and seemed to find something. "It's not like you are talking to someone either, so why should I?"

She winced. Rub it in, freak, she thought. Of course. He probably had seen somehow that Sarah, the only person she had ever talked to about this, had overdosed 5 years ago. She hadn't even tried to open up to someone after that, that much was true. Busted, as they would say.

Still, it wasn't nice to counter her offer of help with that.

As there was no changing his mind, she knew that, and she took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Yeah, it's ok, I get it." She offered him her arm, which he took, and that made the smile a bit easier. "Well then my freaky friend, lets get dinner."

Sherlock just laughed.

Yes, that was a far better nickname.

#

Dinner went surprisingly well. It almost felt homely, sitting there with the Holmes brothers and Anthea, chatting about this and that and hearing Sherlock and Mycroft bicker. Still, there was that weird thing that she and Sherlock used to hate each other. Or something like that, because hate was a bit much, probably.

And of course there were the circumstances. Nobody would forget about that.

When Mycroft entered the house, he immediately told them that Sergej and his men had been put safely away. Apparently he had even been involved in some recent threats against the MI6, so Mycroft´s colleagues had been quite pleased.

Sally just nodded. She meant it when she said she trusted Mycroft to take care of Sergej. Part of her also didn't want anyone at the Yard to know what happened to her, so it was good she didn't have to deal with Sergej that openly. Though, if Mycroft arranged a trial, she would testify of course. Mycroft had also told them, that Sergej had apparently received a tip, minutes before he had caught them both in the woods.

"Not that I approve of you both going off alone like that" He grumbled, and she and Sherlock received a pointed look, which made it sound like a scolding. It also was quite eerie coming from the always composed Mycroft, Sally thought. Though he was right somewhat, she guessed.

"But in the end it might not have made that big of a difference. I was alerted that the innkeeper had phoned Sergej´s men only a few minutes after though. Sadly you guys were already gone. I know Sherlock is unstoppable when it comes to running into obvious danger, but I expected better from a trained police woman, to be honest."

Sally saw it differently. She´d rather walk into danger on her own, than get kidnapped or attacked, while being asleep, thank you very much. Also, she´d never let anyone run into danger alone. Mycroft seemed to understand those reasons at least, but he made a point that he wasn't happy with them.

Sherlock of course just shrugged it all away. To him his lone trip to scout out Sergej´s house without back up was still okay. It was just his life after all. He grumbled about Sally following him as well though, which strangely didn't even annoy her but made her roll her eyes at him. Yes Sherlock, there are people who care when you run into danger without looking, and they will follow you into it. You should have learned that with John already, she thought, but didn't say it out loud. She knew she didn't need to.

But they didn't dwell on the failures too long, to Sally´s relief. This meal was meant to be more like a small celebration that they´d made it.

And celebrate they did. Even Sherlock ate without complaint which surprised Sally, but she decided not to comment on it. She also found out that Mycroft and Anthea loved Dr. Who and had marathons together, while Sherlock thought that "it was a waste of time to watch silly fictional space stories, which defied all science."

Sally had just laughed at that, and told him that they were just supposed to be fairy tales and not accurate documentaries, which earned her another snort. It was so typical Sherlock, that it made her smile.

When dinner was finished they had settled in the pompous living room. Sally felt a bit lost in the big house, to be honest. She hadn't known Sherlock had been that rich. Nevertheless, she was thankful, that the Holmes brothers didn't let her feel it. They just treated her like she belonged there, no matter how small she felt.

After some more small talk and bickering, Anthea and Mycroft both went to bed and that left her alone with Sherlock. There had been a tiny second where she had thought it would be awkward, but strangely it wasn't. They sat in front of the fire and watched the flames. Sometimes they´d talk silently about this and that.

If she hadn't known any better she´d have thought they were friends.

It was close to midnight when she finally gave into the yawning and the drowsiness of the pain medication and bid Sherlock a good night as well. Part of her wanted to ruffle the freak´s hair but she decided against it and attributed it to the haziness of the pain medication and the shock. They´d have to see what time would bring, but she couldn't jump into this like that. Especially since she knew that Sherlock was in no way close to trusting her, and she wasn't close to jumping from her distrust either. It was probably just a reaction to the trauma they had anyway, she told herself, and hoped that she would be able to sleep without nightmares as she went up to her guest room.


	9. Chapter 9

Happy Easter everyone! And thanks again for the review, great someone likes it!

**Chapter 9**

"_Oh come on Freak, does that hurt? Cant you take it like a man?" Sherlock was whimpering now while Sergej pounded harshly into him. The Russian produced a knife from somewhere and slit the consulting detective`s throat with one swift movement, making him and Sally scream. Sherlock´s scream sounded more like a strange, cut off gurgle and that and all the blood made Sally go frantic. She had to get out and…"_

  
With a start Sally all but shot out off the bed. It took her a few moments to realise that she was in the Holmes Country House and not in that damn cellar anymore and that everything was all right. As her breathingbecame closer to normal, she once again looked around the pompous Victorian style room which was only lit by the small bedside lamp. It seemed strangely lonely and empty now, as it was close to 3 and everyone seemed to be asleep. Part of her wanted to get up and go and take a look at Sherlock after this dream, even though she knew she was being unreasonable. The Freak would probably laugh at her and she didn't want to risk that. When did she start to care anyway?

She shook her head at herself and decided to finally admit it. She cared for him. End of story. Before she could dwell further on this she was surprised to hear a slight creak from the door. It was Sherlock, carefully peeking into the room, checking on her.

"Uhm. I…"And he was embarrassed by it obviously.

Sally didn't say anything. She lifted her blanket as if this was the most normal thing in the world, and to her surprise Sherlock slipped under it. They didn't touch, but lay close facing each other, not saying anything. It was weird, but with him near it was okay to switch off the light and go to sleep, and it didn't even take her long to fall asleep after that.

The next time she woke it was due to someone whimpering close to her. It took a few seconds until she remembered that it must be Sherlock, who was obviously dreaming. The whimpering became louder, scared even, and before she could make a move and wake him, Sherlock shot up like he had been poked by the devil. He was trembling like a leaf now, and seemed lost in his dreamworld as he rummaged around the bed trying to free himself from the covers in panic.

Immediately Sally sat up and put her arms around him, pulling him close, murmuring. "Shhh its okay. You´re not there anymore, remember? You are with me, Sally, ok? Come on feel my hands." She was stroking his arms and back now, trying to calm him. "It's just a bad dream Sherlock. It's okay. You are not there anymore." It took a while, but eventually Sherlock seemed to hear and stopped shivering. He let himself be pulled close to her and she felt that his cheeks were wet and realized he had been crying silently. She groaned inwardly about that, but knew that this was far more feelings than what he normally allowed himself. Cursing his childhood and also Mycroft a bit again, she made him lie down once more, but didn't let him out of her arms.

Sherlock surprisingly complied, and so they just lay there for a few seconds. Sally pondered the weirdness of all this again but found herself relieved that he allowed her to comfort him like that. Just as she nearly thought that he had fallen asleep again, Sherlock spoke.  
"I´m actually the biggest idiot in the world, you know?"

"Huh?" was all that Sally could answer before Sherlock went on.

"The day when my father was murdered I didn't run away or even scream when I saw Sergej and his men in our kitchen. I actually greeted them, can you believe that? I mean how stupid can you be…"

"Sherlock you were seven years old."

Sherlock`s grip on her tightened a bit, showing how truly agitated he was. "So what? I´m supposed to be a genius. So even at seven you know that you are not supposed to say hello to strange people who suddenly show up in your kitchen without being invited."

"And you are an adult now, who knows that kids react differently cause they don't know any better. Was there any incident before where people attacked you in your own home?"

"No but…"

"See. Sherlock, genius or not you were a child. You didn't expect people being that mean and ruthless"

"Child or not. I should have known! I should have at least run away or tried to fight instantly. Maybe we would have had a chance then. I should have…"

Now it was Sally who tightened her grip to pull him closer, before he could run away. They were really brothers, him and Myroft, and they probably didn't realise how much, given that they both managed to hide their guilt from another by snarking and misleading each other. "Sherlock you are being irrational. Mycroft said you and your father were alone, right?"

"Yes but…"

"And how many men were with Sergej?"

"Five."

A sigh. "See. Sherlock, as much as you´d pretend to be, you are not Superman."

A huff from Sherlock now. Then silence.

"Still I should have known." He sounded much weaker now. " I could have prevented.."

Sally sighed. "Sherlock. Listen to me, think about the facts. If you were faced with the same case now, a father killed in front of his child, would you think it's the child´s fault?"

Sherlock didn't answer anything. She could tell from the way he was moving in her arms, that he didn't agree, all stoically set on the argument that it all had to be his fault. Yet he didn't move to get up completely and she was thankful for that. She didn't want to start a wrestling match with him.

"He called me freak as well you know?" He then whispered all of the sudden making Sally go stiff and shocked about herself. How could she..?

Sherlock was shaking his head. "You weren't the first to do that after that. I´ve been called that many times and I´m used to it."

"But…"

"It doesn't matter Sally. It's what I am. I can understand that." He sounded even more like a little boy now, which was worse to Sally.

"No it's not. It was never okay."

"Well to be honest I was quite an ass-"

"I´m sorry Sherlock. I shouldn't have…"

She could feel him getting uneasy again. "It's all right Sally. I ´m not the same as him. For him to degrade me even further while my father watched was just a game."

Sherlock shuddered and Sally slowly ran her hand through his hair, trying to calm him. To her surprise, he spoke further. "I never have seen another human being that enjoyed hurting a someone else that much like him, well okay maybe Moriarty.. but …. He was smiling the whole time, telling me I finally got used for what I, the freak, was born for. When my father tried to fight against him he… he shot him. First in the arm, because he wasn't through with me then. And then.." Sherlock stopped and took a deep breath leaving Sally, who murmured "I`m sorry" over and over and some nonsense to comfort him, as she had no real idea what to say. How could anything which she said help Sherlock?

How could there not be an entity which stopped such fucked up shit from happening? She had seen a lot in her career, but even though this was personal, it also was turning out to be one of the most fucked up cases she ever heard of.

"At the end my father had been shot in both arms and feet, the stomach and one shoulder and still was alive. He proceeded to kick him then until he lost consciousness and ultimately bleed out."

Silence. Sally still had no idea what to say, but she could feel Sherlock´s tears against her neck. He wasn't crying loudly, just barely in fact, but she hoped it would help. Screaming, crying, throwing tantrums had been what helped her best, but she doubted she could get Sherlock to that.

It took a while but eventually he calmed down a bit. "Can I? I mean, when was this…"

"17 August 1985." Sally couldn't hold back her gasp which Sherlock noticed of course. "The night before your 8th birthday."

Sally swallowed, all but trying to chase the memories away, but it wasn't working. "Yes."

"That was.." Sherlock sounded reluctant now. "Do you want to talk about it? "

Sally took a deep breath and wasn't sure. Part of her wanted to run into the bathroom and barf cause it all made sense now. But this time it was Sherlock who tightened his arms around her and who wouldn't let her run away. "Talk to me Sally, I ´m here, okay?" he said, and Sally managed a little smile which Sherlock couldn't see in the dark, but knowing him he probably had guessed it. "I… if you want I could try and deduce it when talking isn't…"

"No, its okay. He… Sergej… he came back that day. He had just left three weeks prior without any notice and my mum was sure he´d left her, but as he entered our flat that night, explaining he had finally finished what he needed to do…" She shuddered, now knowing what that implied. Back then her mum hadn't even asked. She just had been so happy to see that asshole. "Well he came back and said he had a surprise for me. I thought that maybe… it was my birthday next day.." The tears were coming freely now, she couldn't help it. " Well my mum left for the night shift and so we were alone and…." She shuddered again. "He raped me three times that night and nearly choked me, telling me that I was scum and didn't deserve any better. When I woke up the next morning he was gone and my mother of course thought it was my fault. I didn't even care. I was so glad he was gone." She sobbed a while, while Sherlock was just holding her saying nothing, obviously lost as well.

"I .. I´m sorry. I don´t know what to say … I´m not good with something like that .. I never know what to say in these moments." He whispered then and Sally managed to calm herself down enough to answer.

"It's all right. There´s nothing you can say which will make it all right you know? But just being there helps. You are doing great. Just thank you for being here."

Silence again. Then she could feel Sherlock nod against her. "You were right. Talking helps."

And Sally smiled.

It would be all right now, or well, some day soon.

She was sure of that.

#

The next time she woke, Sally found herself still in Sherlock´s arms. But against her expectations the consulting detective was already awake. And he was looking at her.

"It's rude to stare, you know?" She teased and Sherlock smiled slightly. It was weird that she still felt comfortable with him in one bed yet strangely it didn't disturb her one bit.

"I didn't want to wake you." He said. "And I needed to think." He looked serious all of the sudden, and Sally started to laugh.

"You know it's weird, if you had told any of us a year ago that we would end up in one bed together…"

Now Sherlock grinned as well. "Anderson would have a field day if he knew. I bet he´s still angry you dumped him"

"He is. But he´d probably expect porn."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Oh please, he sure knows by now that females aren't my area. You figured it out after a week!"

Sally giggled. "Nope, I doubt that he has figured it out. Maybe you were right. He is kinda dumb sometimes. "

Sherlock just raised his eyebrows which probably meant something like "I told you so!" and Sally smiled. " When you come back we need to have some fun with that, okay? I can't wait to see his face. And you really need to talk to John then. He loves you, too, you know"

Sherlock didn't say anything, but it was obvious this was something he didn't want to think about as he tried to move away. "Hey you don't need to worry. He´ll grumble a bit but he´ll be glad you are back. You´ll see."

"You don't know about that. And it's irrational for me to think about that. I might never be able to come back." He was nearly out of the bed by now, just sitting up to stand up altogether, but Sally was faster. She jumped up and pinned him back onto the bed, hovering over him but carefully avoiding his wound.

"Now you listen to me Sherlock Holmes, Consulting detective extraordinaire. You are going to beat this. You will take down the rest of the network. You will destroy what's left of Moriarty once and for all. And you will come back and then live happily ever after, comprende? Mycroft, Molly and even me, we will help you with that. So if you need help you will come to us and ask. Cause if you don't, and die or get hurt, I will come personally and haunt you and kick your ass."

Sherlock said nothing at first, which resulted in the strange impulse of Sally trying to lighten the mood. She started to tickle him and was delighted when the so composed consulting detective actually started to squeal.

"Oh, if I´d have known that you were that ticklish I´d actually have used that before! The next case in which you are grumpy and insulting, I´ll just tickle you in front of everyone. That´ll show you!"

Neither of them noticed that someone had entered the room, until Mycroft coughed very loudly The older brother was grinning slightly at his younger brother`s predicament as Sherlock was red faced, and all but gasping for air between the giggles. Still, he hadn't done much to really fend Sally off. But with the arrival of Mycroft, he got a moment to breathe in some air.

"I just wanted to inform you two that breakfast is served. We need to talk about how to proceed now." Obviously amused, Mycrofts lips were twitching, but he didn't say anything about what he just had seen. Also the fact that they were in the same bed, didn't seem to disturb him, and Sally guessed he´d had probably deduced the whole night already or something like that.

He had probably even listened to half of their conversation this morning.

Strangely, she found, that at the moment she didn't care.

After assurances that they´d be down in a few moments, Mycroft turned to walk out again, but then stopped half way.

"Oh and Mrs. Donovan?"

He turned to look at her a second, seemingly all serious but with some mischief in his eyes.

"Feet."

Sally had no idea what he was on about. Feet? He wasn't trying to tell her he had a foot fetish was he? Mycroft seemed to sense her confusion.

"Feet. My little brother is far more ticklish at his feet. Just for later reference."

With that he hurried away as fast as possible, totally ignoring Sherlock´s loud "Hey!"  
And only seconds later, the consulting detective was up and running after his brother while Sally took some more time to get out of the bed, laughing.

Yep, she definitely started to like the crazy, weird-ass brothers. It would probably be her downfall, but at this moment she couldn't find herself to care anymore.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

It was four days later when she was back at the Met and the evidence came. Mycroft had warned her that he would send out the proof which would finally clear Sherlock, but actually listening to tapes made from Sherlock´s cellphone and seeing the suddenly found CCTV was a whole different story.

Sherlock had vanished the afternoon after their talking all night together without saying goodbye, which according to Mycroft was perfectly normal behaviour for him as he hated the sentiment of goodbyes. But it had left Sally somewhat pissed. Especially since Sherlock had reverted back to his normal sociopath behaviour over breakfast. It hadn't happened like someone had turned a switch, but gradually he had become distant and snappy. Now Sally deduced that he probably had been scared, but at that day she nearly had gone back to fighting with him. She guessed she had gotten a rare glimpse at the boy which Sherlock had been once, before he reverted back to his mask, making sure he alienated everyone.

Stupid idiot.

And the running away hadn't made it better but worse. It was then when Sally finally admitted to herself that she was really worried about the freak going off alone like that. Especially since he was still hurt. And it wasn´t just the body she was thinking of, because she had nightmares like hell and she didn´t think Sherlock would be different.

Nevertheless, Mycroft had wanted to go back to work in London the same evening as well. Although he had offered her the option to stay at the Holmes House for a while to catch her breath, she had declined. It just didn't feel right. She couldn't sit around while Sherlock and probably Mycroft to some degree, went back to chasing criminals. What was she supposed to do here? Twiddle her thumps and hide?

So she found herself back at work the next day, complete with extra long sleeves to cover her still bandaged wrists, and with Mycroft´s promise to alert her if Sherlock needed help.

She wasn't too sure he would, but she had told him that if he didn't keep her updated, there´d be hell to pay. Anthea had been amused by that, and she also had promised to kick Mycroft´s ass, just in case, as they were on their way back to London. Sally had decided that she liked the woman and vowed to invite her for a coffee soon, though she had no idea if Anthea even did trivial things like that.

But time would tell. Now she had to get through this afternoon first. It was Lestrade who had gotten the envelope with the tapes and who watched them first. A bit white in the face, he then told her to call Watson and round up the Superintendent and the rest of the team. Calling John was a bit awkward, since she knew he hated her, but she did what she was told. She considered apologizing to him over the phone, but decided it was better to do so in person. Even if there was a good chance he wouldn't talk to her after that.

She owed that to him, and to Sherlock.

Watching Lestrade lead the rest of the team and the Superintendant into the room to watch the tapes, she stayed back at first. She knew what was on them, so she could wait. Well, that and a part of her didn't want to admit that she was reluctant to watch them because she already felt uneasy thinking about Sherlock.

So it was her to whom John came up to first. She could see in his face that he wasn't really happy to see her, and so she got up quickly and led him towards the room where the rest of the Met was discussing what they had just seen. Lestrade saw them at once, grabbed what she thought were the tapes and came over to them. Only moments later they were sitting in the second media room and Lestrade explained to John why he had been called.

To her surprise John remained pretty calm, even though she was still in the room with him when Lestrade switched on the monitor with the CCTV. He also took out a little tape recorder which had been set back to the exact point where it would fit with the video and started it.

The fact that she was supposed to know what was coming didn't help really. It was just after Moriarty had killed himself, the desperate look on Sherlock´s face, that did it.

She knew he had known what was coming. She knew what was coming. Hell, she knew he was okay- mostly. But still seeing him that desperate reminded her of how he had looked just a few days ago. The moment after Sergej had told him that he´d rape him while Sally watched, and then he would make sure that Sherlock got to see her slow prolonged death. Bile rose in the throat as the Sherlock on the screen started to talk to John and it was just after the figure on the roof had jumped that Sally couldn't take it anymore and ran for the bathroom.

She only just made it in time as she threw up her lunch. Damn memories. Damn Moriarty and all the shit lies which resulted from him. She was so tired of everything. Damn Sherlock. Why couldn't he be here right now so she knew he was safe? Damn PSTD. She was stronger than this. She had to be.

She took a few moments to calm herself, knowing she had to go out there and face the music as the door opened. To her surprise it was John who looked in.

"You okay?"

Sally took a deep breath and nodded before she splashed some water into her face. "Sure, I just have eaten something wrong." She managed and added a "You don't need to check on me." Right after.

John didn't look convinced, so she tried to get away from him, by walking back into the bureau again. But of course he followed her. "Maybe you should go home and have some rest." He told her which managed to stop Sally. Why the hell was he the one comforting her? That wasn't right.

She turned around and now actually looked at him for the first time after she had run out of the room. He looked pale, had red rimmed eyes as if he had cried, but yet he looked generally concerned for her as well. "Why…" she started. "… I mean… listen… I´m sorry about what happened. I was wrong and I shouldn't have…" She sighed. There was nothing she could say that would make that right even if Sherlock said it was okay.

John seemed to think the same. "I knew you didn't hate him. Not really. And he didn't hate you. Even though you two put on your fights. Just be sure of that. And … listen… you had no chance of knowing that the evidence was all fake, I know that now. Hell, I sure as hell didn't see that coming. And Sherlock was a genius and he couldn't figure out in time what Moriarty had been planning, and because of that he had no choice and killed himself. There was no way to save him I guess. "

Sally barely held back a grimace. What could she say to that? She desperately wished she could tell John that Sherlock was ok, and yes, that he was indeed right, and that Sherlock didn't hate her, or at least not completely, but it wasn't an option. Not now. She turned back to run away again, as John grabbed her arm, making her gasp and stop her breath completely.

Yet she was lucky. Just a few centimetres more and John would have grabbed the bandage which would have resulted in some severe pain and thousands of questions. But as it was, he was oblivious. And it was that luck which made her ask the next question and give in to him. "You know what? I think we both look like we could need a cup of coffee, don't you think?"

John just nodded.

#

When she finally entered her apartment that day, she was exhausted. Physically, but also emotionally. Yet she was also glad. The talk between her and John had cleared the air between them, and even though they probably wouldn't become friends, they now could at least speak to each other without getting all awkward.

John had been surprised at the café, when she asked him to tell her about Sherlock. "I want to know what he was like, you know? How it was to live with him. Sometimes I just wish I had tried to get to know him better." She had enquired and he had looked at her for a moment as if she had asked him to change water to wine or something like that. But then he had started to talk.

He told her about what happened between solving the cases. About Sherlock not eating and sleeping enough- that she could vouch for- as she had witnessed it herself in the last weeks. About the crazy experiments in the fridge and the flat. About shooting the wall. Randomly deducing people for a laugh and much more.

She found that she compared his Sherlock to her memories of the past weeks and she regretted that she couldn't tell him that he hadn't changed that much. Though this wasn't all true. Her Sherlock ( something which still sounded all strange to her, damn the freak) had allowed himself to become undone in front of her eyes. He had let himself be vulnerable and he had cried, allowing her to comfort him,she marvelled, not for the first time, that he had allowed her to do that. Normally people didn't trust her that much because they didn't think she was worth it, but Sherlock had. Being in the same boat, so to speak, had something to do with it, she was sure, but she doubted that it had been the whole reason Sherlock did it.

There was just the fact Sherlock trusted her now. And she had sworn to herself that she would honour the trust.

That also included that she would try and watch out for John. Although that wasn't the whole reason. She had liked the doctor anyway, and now that they were on speaking terms again she could watch him much more openly. She could already hear Sherlock "tsking" about that, but she didn't care. Myrcroft was wrong. Caring could be an advantage and she damned well would show that to the Holmes brothers.

#

Sally had known that he was finished with the network, as Mycroft had sent her a text last night, letting her know he wanted to resurrect himself the next day. She knew the older brother was extra busy with resurrecting the younger now, but actually seeing Sherlock in the Yard was different.

It took a while until she stopped watching the undead man in secret, now sitting together with John and her DI in Lestrade`s office. And it took even longer until she had the courage to come out of her hiding place to walk towards them. She had no real idea how to react. They had never talked about what would happen "after". Was she supposed to play evil Sally now?

Whatever.

From afar she could already see that Lestrade was still pissed. John`s mouth was also set in a grim line, and while he looked more calm than the detective, it was clear that this was no easy situation for him either.

Sherlock looked even more haggard than a few weeks ago, which she thought wouldn't have been possible. He also had a split lip, which looked reasonably fresh. Courtesy of Watson she guessed. He seemed a little stiff which might mean he was hurt somewhere else and trying to hide it, but since John was here with him, and not at the hospital, it couldn't be so bad.

Well at least she hoped that, cause with the stubborn git you never knew. She would definitely get that out of him later.

And hold him down for Watson to treat him if necessary.

She strolled through the half open door of Lestrade´s office and came to stand behind John and the Freak. There she put a file onto Greg´s desk and couldn't resist ruffling through Sherlock´s hair as she bent back.

"Hey Freak!"

All three of them turned towards her, albeit Sherlock didn't turn around as quick as the others or even scolded her for touching him like that or at all. That alone resulted in a bigger surprise from Watson and Lestrade.

"Sally."

Sherlock just nodded and looked back at Lestrade while the mouths of the other two dropped open enough to admit whole planes if necessary. She only just managed to hide her threatening giggle, as she turned around to leave the room, passing Anderson who was standing at the door now, gaping like some big fish.

Sally grinned. That was all really amusing.

Only a few minutes later, she was back with a cup of coffee and a package of crisps that she knew Sherlock liked. Without further ado she went into the office, deposited the package into his lap and demanded.

"Eat."

Cue more surprise from everyone else, and a big pout of Sherlock which made her sigh.  
"Listen Freak, I can deduce from the glassy eyes and the way that your hands are trembling and your whole complexion that you probably haven't eaten anything for 3 or 4 days. Given that your are obviously hurt and need to keep up your strength, I suggest you eat or I´ll make you. Cause if you don't and you keel over, I´m going to…" She didn't need to say more. Sherlock pouted for a few moments longer but then took the package, making Sally grin.

John, Lestrade and the still looming Anderson were speechless and Sally had to fight not to dissolve into laughter right there. The looks on their faces were priceless, and she could see Sherlock`s lips twitch as he started to eat the crisps like a good boy.

He was definitely having fun with this as well.

Damn it that she had forgotten he mobile phone in her office and couldn't take pictures, but seeing Sherlock again had shaken her more than she would like to admit. Even to herself.

It was John who found his speech back first: "What the hell.." Was all he could say before he was waved off by Sherlock.

"It's a long story."

Sadly, Sally wasn't able to hear anymore after that, as a constable came to get her, telling her that her witness for the latest case had arrived. Damn. She would have to ask Sherlock later. Too bad she couldn't make the witness wait, but as the woman was in her seventies and hardly able to walk, it was damn nice of her to make it here in first place.

So off she was.


	11. Chapter 11

Okay one chapter left after this...

**Chapter 11**

When she was finished Sally immediately went back to Lestrade`s office, only to find it empty. It took a bit of searching, but she eventually found Sherlock in the otherwise deserted kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee while staring into the nothingness of the grey linoleum floor. She debated what to do for a second but decided she didn't care.

Fuck it.

With that she went into the room and gave the consulting detective a hug. She was glad he was unhurt (mostly at least it seemed) and also glad that it finally was over, as she was so damn tired of all the lies.

And to hell with it if she wasn't allowed to show it.

Sherlock seemed to be okay with it as well as he hugged her back with the arm that didn't hold the full cup of coffee. He even let his head sink down on her shoulder for a moment to close his eyes and let out a long breath. The hug may only have lasted one, maybe two seconds, but it told Sally all she needed to know.

They wouldn't go back to the antagonistic bickering and downright hate from before.

Lestrade seem to have noticed that as well, as he and John were now standing in the door. "Okay, seeing this, I might think Mayans were off for a year. This must definitely be the apocalypse. You two hugging? I´d always thought when you´d be touching you´d be killing each other."

Sherlock snorted and Sally downright laughed., though of course she knew what he was talking about. "People change." She told her boss, who nodded and smiled at her.  
"Yeah, I can see that. But I want to hear that story. Soon. Especially since I hadn't a single clue that you could be involved. I take it the leave with your aunt wasn't a visit in the country?"

John looked equally eager and Sally bit her lip at that, suppressing a shudder. "Something like that." She didn't really want to remember that, to be honest.

It was Sherlock who reassured them. "We will tell you. But first, Sally is right. I need something to eat. Chinese everyone?"

There were nods all around.

#

It was late at night when they all finally made it back into 221b. They had picked up Mycroft somewhere along the way after the Chinese, and went for a walk which turned into a chase after two thieves which had stolen some guy's wallet. Sherlock had spotted the thieves just by the way they walked. "Thanks for that, Sherlock!" Sally had grumbled, though she secretly was glad that they had gotten criminals busted again. Nevertheless, it wasn't the right time, as they both had decided that they would tell the others what exactly happened tonight. For Sally the whole " Oh hey by the way, I was raped " thing was hell and she could see it was the same for Sherlock, so they decided to only do it once. Sally gladly would have preferred to not do it at all, but she knew that wasn't fair to the others. They had the right to know what had happened and Sherlock only had wanted to do it when she did the same as well.

So here they were, sitting in the living room of 221b, nursing some tea, courtesy of John of course. Sherlock didn't look like he was starting anytime soon. He seemed to be staring at the smiley face on the wall lost in thought, and so Sally took a deep breath and started herself.

"When I was seven years old, my mum met a new guy. His name was Sergej and he soon came to live with us …"

#

Roughly two hours later, the rest of them knew the basics of what had happened and why she and Sherlock had more in common than she and everyone else thought. It had been incredibly hard talking about it again, and Sherlock had often stopped as well, but in the end they made it. Halfway through the story she had moved to his left side and took his hand, while John sat on the opposite side and had taken the other. It seemed to help Sherlock not getting too lost in the memories, and when he had finished everyone went silent for a few minutes.

"And where is Sergej now?" Lestrade addressed Mycroft after a few moments, barely hidden anger in his voice.

"If you mean to ask if I have killed him…"

"I don't care if you have killed him, well okay I do , but I just wanted to know if that bastard is locked up or somehow else not a threat to society anymore. Bloody hell I would´ve killed him myself if I could, he hurt two of my friends!" Lestrade all but growled, making Mycroft smile slightly.

"Let's just say he has a new address now. Cuba is said to be nice at this time of the year, but I think he wont find it as amusing."

"Guantanamo bay?" John was the first to speak it out loud, and Mycroft nodded.

"Exactly. I had a friend at the FBI who owed me a favor anyway, and upon hearing what he had done he assured me that Sergej would be treated accordingly. I don't think we have to worry about him anymore."

Lestrade let out a loud breath and everyone seemed to be okay with that as well. Sally was relieved but it also felt strange somehow. This guy had destroyed her childhood, made her go into police work, and now he wasn't a threat anymore. Although she had had a few weeks already to come to terms with that, it still felt weird. But mostly it just felt good.

Just as the talk they all had now. She had been scared shitless, but she knew it hadn't been good that she hadn't talked about it to anyone after Sarah´s death. And Sherlock had all but poked her on it when she tried to help him with his memories.

Now it was all out in the open. And it was good that way.

#

Things quickly went back to normal after the few weeks of media outrage, or to that thing that she and the rest of the Yarders called normal by now.

Some had demanded retribution from the yard after Moriarty. They wanted heads to roll, but it had been Sherlock himself who calmed it down. He told the newspapers that everything was all right already, and that he would work with Lestrade, Sally and yes, even Anderson, on cases again.

And so life and the cases went on. Sherlock and Sally still bickered, and to the untrained eye it seemed like nothing had changed. But their team knew better. Or at least they hoped so, because sometimes their arguing became downright hostile.

Just like right now, as Sherlock couldn´t understand why everyone else couldn't see what he saw. "Please. It's obvious. It was the brother." He said, standing above a dead dogwalker, once know as Thomas Smithson. Sally just scoffed. "Yeah right, thing is his only brother died four years ago. So nope Sherly, wrong." She teased, making Sherlock scrunch his face at the new nickname. "Unless you want to say you want us to convict a ghost."

"Sally your childish humour never ceases to amaze me. And no, no ghost. He has another brother. One he just heard about a few days ago."

"And you deduced this from the front of his pants or what?"

John and Lestrade had just watched the exchange and it was finally John, who put two fingers into his mouth to whistle. It worked. Both of them went still and looked at the others which lead to Lestrade letting out a deep breath. "Great. Now stop it you two. You are giving me a headache and John is close to bringing out the gags. Sherlock? Tell us how you got the idea. And Sally, stop teasing him."

Surprisingly they complied. While Sherlock went on about how the telephone number and some other artifacts next to him spelled out something about his family, Sally looked closer and suddenly understood what Sherlock meant, before he had even told it all.

"… as you can see it was his brother, who, once he heard about him, used him and killed him as…" Sherlock stated and Sally grinned before she put in.

"And as they really…" that prompted Sherlock to stop and look at her. "…. looked alike nobody would even think that our victim Thomas Smithson would still be alive. But hey, who would have thought that he had a twin brother, whose only distinctive mark would be a mole nearly hidden behind his left eyebrow?"

Lestrade's eyes went big as he saw what she saw, and even John started grinning. Sherlock looked at her with what she imagined was a little bit of pride. Well. It probably wasn't, but at least she seemed to have gotten it right, as he didn't contradict her.

"Well Sally, at least you don't seem to be an idiot all of the time. But you have forgotten the state of his fingers and hands. While Smithson did all kinds of manual works, this man is probably an accountant and works in a bureau."

Sherlock actually went on, but Sally just shrugged "Whatever, I got it anyway." And with that, she turned and walked out of the room to issue a search warrant. Much to the amusement of John and Lestrade, who got to see how Sherlock grumbled as she went away without listening to his whole deduction.

#

Nights though could sometimes be tricky. It actually took a few weeks, but then Sherlock started to call her all of the sudden in the middle of the night. The second time she noticed that it wasn't due to him wanting to annoy her, but because he had been woken by a nightmare or because he couldn't sleep because of Sergej.

Confirming this was the next hurdle as Sherlock would still assure that he didn't need any help, and it was only when she returned the favour and called after a bad nightmare, that he admitted that he had dealt poorly with some memories as well. She tried to get him to a shrink, but as she had guessed he wouldn't. Bad experience he´d say.

And so she did what she would have done anyway: Listened and talked to him, and hoped that it would be enough to help him. He said that he had tried to talk to John as well, as the two of them were slowly getting closer. ( Sally was actually hoping for some kissage soon, damn it! Or she would lock them in a room!) But in the end, Sherlock didn't want to burden John with this, and part of her would even understood that. Before, Sarah had been the only one who had known.

So the two of them sometimes would phone the night away. When it was especially bad, Sherlock would suddenly show up at her flat or at work. Of course he´d never say what exactly was up. He´d make up something from a case which he needed to talk to her about at 3 in the morning, or he´d tell her that he needed to do an experiment on her or the officers of the MET. Sometimes even her company alone seemed to help, probably just knowing that there was someone else who knew how you felt or something like that, she guessed.

Often they wouldn't even talk about Sergej then. They´d just bicker on like normal.

From time to time, when she felt he or she needed it, she also would drive to 221b and John didn't even seem to be surprised about finding them sitting on the couch in the morning.

Sherlock was still complicated, but it was okay. She was glad he trusted her that way.

#

While being with him during these nights, one learned a lot about Sherlock Holmes. Sally certainly did. They would talk about nothing and everything, and Sherlock would show her his experiments, often commenting what had driven John up the wall about the newest one. They would talk about cases as well, and sometimes they´d try and deduce some old cold cases the freak had gotten from Lestrade. And she must admit: She was slowly getting better. Not only the cases but in understanding Sherlock that is.  
Who would have known?

Sherlock seemed to learn about her and about human beings as well, even though her "How to not insult everyone at once"- guide did not always help and was not always understood.

But well, he tried.

And she did as well. Tried to understand him and his experiments, that is.

Although, pulling the prank on the Superintendant had been quite funny. She wasn't sure if that could be counted as an experiment, but making him think his favourite cup of coffee was talking to him had been priceless.

He never even dared to grab that particular cup after that.

Sherlock said it was supposed to show how gullible humans were to supernatural phenomena. She thought it was to make her laugh, because the Superintendant had given her an unfair dressing down the day before. But nevertheless, it had been hilarious. And made her laugh, which was what counted.

#

Anthea became some kind of ally to her. They would go for a coffee sometimes, and she´d gone on about her boss and Sally would roll her eyes about Sherlock´s deeds on the newest crime scene. And then they´d laugh together about it all and eat lots of ice cream, or something like that.

She also learned that the woman with the many names, actually had known the Holmes brothers since her childhood, as her mother had been working as a housekeeper for the family. She had been the one to watch Sherlock that day, and been sent home by his father before it happened.

And she probably had been lucky to escape with her life because of that.

Nevertheless, her mother also had felt guilty and had taken care of the boys ever since, as their real mum was hardly at home. And Anthea had literally fallen into the role of the small sister. Or nuisance as Sherlock would say.

Another mystery was solved when Anthea told her, that Sherlock, and even Mycroft, didn't in fact mind to be touched as much as everyone thought they did.

"They love to complain about it loudly and act as if they hate it, but in fact they like it mostly- as everyone else does. As long as it's with the right people of course. I mean, you noticed that Sherlock likes to give hugs, right?"

Sally laughed. Yep, it seemed that way. At least sometimes.

Anthea grinned back knowingly. "Their grandmother was very affectionate, and while their parents were more careful, they truly loved the boys as well. It was never shown in public though, ever. And if you would have seen them, you wouldn't have been able to identify them as parent and child. Some of the precautions of their job. " Anthea sighed, and then went on "Mycroft took this to new heights though. His life motto became: Caring is not an advantage. So don't ever show feelings. Or better, don't even have them. He´d even make Sherlock recite it, when they were younger."

Sally nodded sadly as she could relate to her on this point, but laughed as Anthea told her a few tales when she simply had hugged Mycroft, or cradled him behind his ears when he had needed it. That, according to Anthea, was also "the secret weapon" for getting anything you ever wanted from him- not that she told that to Sally, right?

Sally just smiled and filed it away for later use.

"Never do it in public though!" Anthea warned then, but Sally wasn't sure if that wasn´t supposed to be some kind of challenge.

Anthea also told her that the ruffling of hair that Sherlock seemed to like so much was actually something done by the boy´s grandmother to calm them when they were little. Sadly, the women had died a few months after the murder of Sherlock´s father, something which had set Sherlock´s recovery back ages at that time.

Nevertheless, it stayed something which Sherlock liked, and even Mycroft had indulged him once or twice when Sherlock had been trying to get off the drugs and had been delirious. Not that he would admit to that now or ever.

Sally just grinned and rolled her eyes at that, and vowed to ruffle the hell out of Sherlock the next time he visited.

#

John was well., John. They mostly saw each other through Sherlock anyway, but on rare occasions when everyone else was busy, they met up for lunch or went for a night at the pub. It was one of those nights, when John admitted that he came after her that day at the Yard, because he, and Greg as well, noticed signs of PSTD.

"You looked white as death as you stormed out of the conference room. I must say I didn't like you that much at that time, especially after watching Sherlock fall again." He shuddered and Sally nodded and shuddered in sympathy. She had only watched the video one more time, and it still had given her a kick in the gut. She couldn't imagine having to witness a friend jump in front of her and actually didn't even want to, to be honest.

"But even though I wasn't feeling well I could see there was something deeply wrong with you. Greg and I thought it had to do something with work. I mean the human trafficker case wasn't that long ago, but… if I´d known… " he stopped and shook his head. "You surprised me that day though, when you asked after Sherlock."

Sally smiled. She had surprised herself. But in hindsight it also had been a bit risky. John could have caught on easily if she had said the wrong things.

"I … " He smiled at her. "Guess I can't say I wish you would have talked to me, given the situation at that time, but I can say it now. I know you talk with Sherlock about it, and it helps you both, I guess. But if you ever need to… cause I know you are as stubborn as him and wont go to a therapist and Mycroft... well, he`s Mycroft and there's even more baggage … but if you ever need to .. I want you to know that we are there. Greg. Me. Hell Anthea is watching you as well, did you notice that?"

Both of them laughed. Sally didn't really have to answer. She just nodded.

John smiled and got up, throwing a few pounds on the table.

"Good. You coming back with me to Baker Street for some tea? We could annoy Sherlock a bit and disturb one of his experiments."

To Sally that sounded like the perfect ending of a pub night on Thursday.

And off they went…


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

But it wasn't all easy. Sometimes they would still fight until the bitter end, where it nearly ended up in tears. Just as her mother came to the Yard to get her to their annual birthday meal, Sherlock refused to talk to her or even greet her at all.

"I don't see why I should talk to this woman who actually knew, or at least suspected, her daughter had been abused but who did nothing. That´s a waste of my time." He had said in front her mom and walked away.

Sally had been furious. Even if were true that she might have had a hunch back then, she didn't think her mum would have done that on purpose. And it was her decision to make anyway! She had made peace with the role of her mum in Sergej´s abuse years ago, damn it!

She had tried to tell Sherlock that he couldn't talk to her mum like that, which had led to even more snarks and a " You know what? I don't even want to talk to you ever again!"

And that had been that.

Now they had been ignoring each other for seven days and she was okay with that, really. She hadn't even noticed that he and John were in the building, which was probably due to the fact that she hadn't slept in two nights. The first had been due to a particularly gruelling case of an abducted child where she had worked all night, and the second was due to Sherlock. It had been the doubts implanted by him which made her discuss Sergej with her mum again, and which led to a big fight between them. Then of course the nightmares had returned, which led her to go to work at 5 in the morning just to make the thoughts go away.

And that was where she was now, trying to make sure she didn't pass out. Deciding that coffee number ten for the day would be a good idea, she got up and walked towards the breakroom. To get there she had to pass Lestrade`s office, which she went by without taking a look at it. Given her mood, she carefully avoided any unnecessary human contact. Nevertheless, she shouldn't have been surprised that as she started to leave the break room, the coffee was taken out of her hands and set up on the counter before she was drawn into two very long arms.

"You are an idiot Sally." Sherlock said before declaring to Lestrade and John who were following him into the room now. "Lestrade, Miss Donovan is taking the day off, as she needs to sleep for a decent night."

Sally´s "But.." only resulted in a "Shut up Sally."

And with that, she was taken to 221b where John made her tea and Sherlock made her sleep, which probably wasn't that hard anyway.

#

Another murder, another crime scene. Sherlock had just left, grumbling spectacularly, insulting a poor pedestrian, who had been walking by when he got out of the house. Sally knew that he thought he was missing some kind of minuscule clue and that pissed him off, so she didn't even hear the insults anymore. Anderson though, was all but staring at her while John just rolled his eyes, laughed and hurried after his friend.

Normal for them all, really.

But Anderson couldn't seem to let it go.

"You know, I don't understand it." he said, now looking at her.

"What?" She asked, even though she could probably guess it.

"Well you say, you are friends. But you still fight at every crime scene. He´s an ass you know. He hasn't changed!" Anderson was grumbling himself now, which made Sally laugh.

"Yeah he is. Doesn't change anything, though. That, and he doesn't have a choice. I have adopted him, I guess." With that she turned around to search for Lestrade and could hear Anderson just huff in response.

It didn't surprise her. Of course he wouldn't understand. He didn't even have a clue about what had happened to her, so how could he understand this?

_Sally was still shivering when she walked out of the bathroom of the Youth centre. She still couldn't believe that this was still happening to her. She was 13 now, damn it. It had been over five years ago. She was better than this. But all it took was this damn smell and she´d panic again. _

_That damn after shave of his, which wasn't that uncommon at all. _

_Struggling to walk normally now, she concluded she really was a sissy. All her instincts screamed at her to get away from here, to go home. But she knew that she would be alone there. _

_And being alone always made it worse. _

_So she tried to pretend everything was all right when she walked into the main room of the centre again. It wasn't that hard as the other children and even the adults there didn't really look at her anyway. But that was okay, she didn't mind being an outsider most of the time, and now it was even a bigger relief. Nobody would ask questions. _

_She sat down at one of the community tables, and stared out of the window which faced the playground of the Youth Centre. Lost in her thoughts, she didn't even realize that Sarah had sat down next to her until she felt the arm around her shoulders. _

"_You know if you bottle it all up, he´s going to win. You have to let it go." The older girl said and smiled at her. _

_Sally was looking at her carefully now. "I don't get it you know? Why do you care? I´m not even the same age. And.."_

_Sarah held up her hand, which shut her up. _

"_Why do you have to be the same age to be liked by me? And of course I care what happens to my friends. Hell, we are more than that anyway. We both survived and that makes us sisters." _

"_Sisters?"_

"_Sisters, yes. I adopted you. You don't have a choice." She grinned at Sally and Sally carefully smiled back. "Sisters have to take care of each other, you know?" _

And that's what he was now really, she had decided.

Her brother.

She´d be his Sarah and no offensive or bad behaviour from him would stop her. It hadn't stopped Sarah either.

#

There was even one time when Sherlock made Sally cheer at a crime scene.

Or rather it was Sherlock´s SMS:

John kissed me. SH

She had grinned at that, already typing to answer, when the second message had arrived.

And yes I kissed back SH

Which made her break out the yay´s and resulted in a lot of weird looks over the dead and mutilated body. Guess it wasn't that good to cheer "Yessss!" when Anderson and another forensic expert were detailing the injuries which had led to the death of the victim.

Oooops.

Lestrade understood though, once she had shown him her phone. Of course after the case that day, they went to 221b to congratulate the new boyfriends.

#

Sally didn't even mind occasionally being kidnapped by Mycroft, which John was always groaning about. It might have been that his kidnappings didn't always end up in a nice restaurant resulting in a fine meal. That was what she guessed anyway, because John just laughed when she asked him about that.

Whatever.

Sherlock had mumbled a "At least better than Anderson." the next time he walked by her, and she thought that this was probably as much of a blessing as she was going to get.

They were taking it slow, however, as Mycroft allowing his feelings to be known was even harder for him than for Sherlock.

#

The friendship between them wasn't always that obvious, but that didn't mean they wouldn't protect each other. Just like now, when both she and the freak had been taken hostage by a gang. Their role had been to make sure that these bad guys were busy, and while being held hostage wasn't the original plan, it served its purpose well. So they complied and waited for Greg and Myrcoft to get the clearance to take down the bosses of these guys before they came rushing in. Even Sherlock seemed to be a bit amused by their kidnappers, as they clearly hadn't an idea what really was going on and that they were being played.

That changed the second one of the guys made unwanted advances at Sally.

It was almost like someone had pushed a big red button. Sherlock immediately went into insulting and deducing the gangster, clearly to get him away from her.

"I believe your father wouldn't be pleased if he knew that you would even look at a woman thinking those perverted thoughts. Now you are about to act on them. I guess he was right when he called you a useless bastard as a child, wasn´t he?" he teased and the guy fell for it and jumped him at once. Part of Sally was glad, but the bigger part of her didn't like Sherlock throwing himself into the line of the fire that way. After all, they were both bound to chairs and had no actual way of fighting back. Unless you counted insults that is.

Seeing that the man was hitting Sherlock again while the consulting detective kept insulting him with various deduced childhood and other traumas, Sally decided that she had to help. Especially since there was already blood on his lip, and she could see the beginning of a black eye. To cement the decision the man drew a knife.

"Hey you, big thug over there. Leave him alone, will you? But it's all the same with you, isn't it? You can only hit people when they are bound cause you don't have it in you. Probably can't get it up either!"

The thug stopped and growled at her which of course got Sherlock to react.

"I´m sorry Sergeant, but I am busy here. Maybe you can come back and insult the thug later?" Sherlock inquired, leaving Sally to shake her head.

"Pah and let you have all the glory? What do you think John will do to me when you look like you just took part in a box fight?"

"Irrelevant. I`m also sure that it's rather gentlemanly of me to make sure that the lady is protected…."

Sally huffed at this and spat. "I´m not a damsel in distress! And you know that Holmes! So don´t treat me like one!"

The thug was staring now, totally lost as they traded more insults between each other, completely ignoring the other man. They were so lost in their brawl, that they didn't even notice that the other kidnappers hadn't come back, like the said they would.

That could be said for the watcher thug as well though.

Then finally…

A shot.

Some shouting and a minute of chaos later, an out of breath John Watson was standing next to them, shaking his head. "One can't leave you two alone, can they? You guys are impossible! Instead of fighting the kidnappers, you fight each other! I can't believe it!"

With that he got them loose while Sally smirked, although she knew that he was right.

"How do you know that this wasn't some sort of grand plan from me and Sherlock to make sure they wouldn't contact their bosses because they were busy?"

John just huffed, while Sherlock laughed.

Well okay, busted.

But it could have been a great plan. Really.

#

****Back at the yard they had taken a breath and eaten something before diving back into the most recent case again, as it needed to be solved before the suspect left the country in 12 hours.

At first the others had wanted her and Sherlock to go home, but they both insisted, knowing it was urgent. Neither wanted a supposed head of a human traffic ring to go free- probably because they both had experienced such a case now first hand. Sally felt better with company after such things anyway, and she thought that Sherlock might feel the same, even if he´d never admit it.

When Sally walked by the breakroom she heard Lestrade talking to John.

"Honestly I´m a bit scared."

That made her stop. They weren't talking about her and Sherlock, were they?

"You are scared Sally and Sherlock will fight again? God, they are worse than siblings, aren´t they?" John inquired and Sally bit her lip to refrain from saying anything. Hey, bickering was half the fun of it, wasn´t it?

Lestrade just laughed. "Well Sally always said she had wanted a brother who´d have protected her when she was younger…" He stopped himself, obviously realizing what he´d just said and shook his head. "Naw you understood me wrong. I wasn't scared of them. Not for me anyway. More for the criminals. I mean, when they worked on their own or against each other they were effective enough, but can you imagine what happens when they really perfect their working together and have us for back up? I sure as hell don't want to be a criminal in London right now."

John laughed and Sally couldn't hold back her giggle as she went back to Sherlock who was looking at some files Lestrade had given him.

Lestrade was right. The criminals better watch out.

Still grinning, she sat down at her desk and started to read through some files on her own as her eyes fell on something suspicious.

"SHERLOCK! What the hell have you done to my cup of coffee?"

She may not have imagined Lestrade walking in, turning and then immediately walking out again. Maybe. She didn't care.

"An experiment." The screamed at mad man in question answered innocently, and that was all Sally needed to jump up and glare.

Damn these world´s consulting detectives!

**The END**

So thats it. Thanks again to sevenpercent for beta reading and for bearing with me. Thanks everyone for reading, I hope you enjoyed it a little bit!


	13. Sequel

Hi everyone... there´s the start of a sequel now ... Its called "Fate" ... just look at my profile...


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